


I'll Be Seeing You

by FormidableChronicler



Series: Bad Ass Ladies of Marvel [8]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agent Carter References, Angst, Awesome Peggy Carter, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Peggy Carter, BAMF Steve Rogers, Back to the Future References, Back to the Future Shenanigans, Bittersweet, F/M, Feelings, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Steve Rogers, Love, Love story for the ages, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, POV Peggy Carter, Peggy Carter in 21st Century, Pepperony - background, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Peggy Carter, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Slow Burn, Steggy - Freeform, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter - Freeform, Time Travel, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 62,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormidableChronicler/pseuds/FormidableChronicler
Summary: Tony uses the flip phone. It's not for a reason anyone could have ever guessed.Or, Howard Stark sends Peggy Carter to 2017. She's determined to make it back to 1947 as quickly as she can so as not to disrupt the time-stream continuum...until she discovers a certain Captain is alive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Peggy Carter is the Goddamn BEST. As someone who works in a field where women still don't get a lot of credit or promotions, her approach to things and outlook on life really resonates with me. 
> 
> And of course, Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers are a love story for the ages.
> 
> Peggy's story starts in 1947. It's Agent Carter compliant, but you don't need to have seen the show to follow (although I really recommend that you do!). There are a few Agents of Shield thrown in as well, because I love them, but I haven't seen the most recent seasons so Coulson and Co are circa season 3 or 4. It's set to take place only a few months before Infinity War, so it's compliant with all the MCU movies set before that.
> 
> If you've read my stories before, you might know I'm a HEA kinda girl, but...this is Peggy and Steve. There are feels. A LOT of feels. Peggy feels. Steve feels. Natasha Feels. Tony Feels. (I firmly believe Peggy was a large part of Tony's life while he grew up, so if that's not your thing, heads up now!). 
> 
> Alllllll the angst, basically. 
> 
> But there's also a love that stands the test of time so. You know. I hope I do them justice.
> 
> Updates will be Fridays, and I hope you enjoy!

I’ll find you in the morning sun  
And when the night is new  
I’ll be looking at the moon  
But I’ll be seeing you.  
- _I'll Be Seeing You, Bing Crosby_

 

 

 

She should have bloody well stayed in LA.

Peggy Carter carried her briefcase out of her hotel and down the stairs. If she hadn’t agreed to help the New York office, she wouldn’t have left LA, and she wouldn’t have run into Howard while he left the Stork Club. _She_ wouldn’t have been outside on the street, staring at the Stork Club and reminiscing on missed dances and blue eyes—- something she swore she would no longer do, she’d moved past it, she’d made her peace. She would have been working with Sousa, despite their ending of things, or visiting with Ana or Edwin, or having a girls lunch with Angie after she’d auditioned for another television show.

Not getting roped into more shenanigans by Howard Bloody Stark.

A recently _engaged_ Howard Bloody Stark, and wasn’t that a kick to one’s sensibilities and presumptions? Howard swore he’d found the one dame that could turn his head, and keep it turned.

It sounded very sweet and lovely but Peggy would believe it when she’d seen proof of it. She just couldn’t help but think Howard was up to something. He’d all but confirmed it when she’d run into him outside the club.

“Peg!” He’d cried, eyes bright and grin wicked like every other time she’d seen him. “Of all the joints in the world. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story, Howard.” She nodded at him and the short chauffeur who waited patiently by Howard’s side. Alex, something or other. She wished it had been Jarvis. “I hear congratulations are in order,” she continued.

The smile shifted, and became something soft and real. Despite herself, Peggy blinked. “Yeah, Maria’s a real treasure, Peg. You’ll love her. Hey! You should stop by tomorrow. Meet Maria. Plus, I’ve got a new invention I’ve been tinkering with. You’ve gotta see it. And I’ve got a project I could really use your help on. Whaddya say?”

“I am absolutely not getting involved with whatever you’ve created now. I haven’t forgotten about your Bad Babies.”

“Oh, Peg, that was—-“

“No.”

“You sure? My new chef has the recipe for Jarvis’s meatloaf. He can make it tomorrow. And then you can go over the project notes with me. Just like old times.”

Music poured out from the Stork Club. A couple burst through the doors, laughing, clearly exhilarated from a fun night of dancing.

Just like old times. Only it wouldn’t be, not really. Not with the most important partner in their little trio forever missing.

And she really had to stick to her promises and move past it.

Besides. She was fond of Howard, manic projects aside. So somehow she found herself smiling, and stating, “All right. I’ll see you then. Make sure Maria is there. I’d hate to miss the opportunity to meet the woman brave enough to settle down with you.”

The flashy smile blinded her again. “Absolutely, Pegs. You know where the mansion is. See you then.”

Now Peggy’s heels clicked while she strode along the sidewalk, and waved down a taxi. Settling into the seat, she gave the driver Howard’s address, and gazed out the window. New York had changed little since she’d been away. Perhaps that was a comfort, but a small stone still sat in Peggy’s chest. New York also held a lot of memories.

When they reached the Stark mansion, the cabbie whistled. “Nice place.”

“Indeed,” Peggy murmured, paying her fare and exiting the cab.

The mansion door opened and Howard stepped out when the cab drove off. “Peg! You actually came. Right on time.”

“Punctuality is a sign of respect, Howard.”

“Aw, Peg, I respect you too. Come in, come in! Maria is at a charity event, will be here soon. I thought I’d show you the project I’m working on while we wait for her to arrive.”

“All right.” She followed Howard down the hall, appreciating the new art on the walls. Jarvis’s influence, no doubt.

When he stopped in front of a bookcase, and pulled a book out, Peggy smiled. The bookcase slid to the side, revealing a doorway in the wall and stairs.

Reminded of an antique store in Brooklyn, Peggy titled her head at Howard. “Rather cliched, don’t you think?” She asked.

He barked out a laugh. “Not at all, Peg, not at all. Come on.”

They descended the stairs, entered a large circular room with a table in the middle of it. On the table sat a glowing purple orb.

There was a absolutely no way that boded well. “Howard, what in God’s name is that?”

“I finally did it, Peggy. I’ve been trying for _ages_ , didn’t think it was something that could actually be possible. But I did it.”

A slither of unease slid down Peggy’s back. “Did what, Howard?”

“Peg. It’s a time machine.”

Words simply failed her. Peggy stared at Howard, mouth agape, processing his statement. Was he joking? Surely he must be joking. Traveling through time belonged in science fiction novels, in artistic thoughts and dreams. Not in glowing purple artifacts on Howard Stark’s table.

Yet she’d seen Howard play pranks on her before. None of the barely restrained mischief crossed his features now.

“That’s not possible,” she finally said, faintly.

“It is, Peg, I’ve tested it. And here’s the best part: we can go back and fix things.”

“Fix what?” she asked, her head feeling floaty, like she was swimming under water. Time travel of all things. What ridiculousness.

Yet the concept of altering the time stream continuum wasn’t what was causing the itch between her shoulder blades, or the twitch in her right hand.

There was something in Howard’s expression, something making her palms sweat and her knees tremble. He couldn’t be hinting at what she thought he was. He wouldn’t.

“Peggy,” Howard breathed. “We can go get Steve.”

The world simply stopped.

Howard continued, as if he didn’t notice Peggy’s absolute stillness, or the way she stopped breathing. “Stop him from going after Red Skull alone, from being forced to down that pla—“

“Howard.”

“It can be done, Peggy, I know it—“

“Enough!” It snapped out of her before she could control it. Howard flinched, glancing at her with wounded eyes.

“How could you even suggest such a thing, why would you bloody damn _say_ something like that to me, Howard! It’s taken me years to process Steve’s death, we can’t just _bring him back_.” Though she wanted to. God, she wanted to. How many nights had she wished, how many silent bargains in the hazy highlight of dawn had she pleaded, begged, for things to have gone differently?

For him to still be there.

“Peggy,” Howard was saying, “we _can_ , it’ll _work_.”

“No.” Her spine straightened, and she looked him dead in the eyes. “Even if your contraption works, we still can’t do it. Steve saved thousands of lives that day, we cannot just ignore that and murder thousands because we miss him.”

“But-“

“NO, Howard.” She stomped toward the table.

“Peg, what are you doing?”

“How do I turn this off?”

“You don’t, Peggy. Don’t!” He rushes over, smacked her hand away. “Peggy, don’t, you don’t understand!”

She shoved him aside, went to study the contraption. Howard grabbed her arm again, but in doing so, his elbow jutted out, struck the silver base of the glowing orb.

He stilled. “Oh, hell.” He scampered away from the table, pulling Peggy behind him.

“What? What’s wrong—-“

But before she could finish, a purple flash exploded through the room, blinding Peggy and sending her crashing to the floor.

 

 

 

 

It had been a while since she had woken feeling so absolutely miserable. Unable to move, consciousness trickled back to her while she processed her aching, tingling body. She felt as if she’d been wrung inside out and flipped back again.

What the devil had happened?

A female, English voice cut through the silence in Peggy’s brain, making her hand twitch. “I’ve found the location of the disturbance, sir. It came from inside the Stark mansion.”

Peggy wanted to reply, ask the woman what on earth was happening. But her eyes stayed closed as waves of agony swept through her.

Another voice—-American, this time—-responded instead. “Oh, great, what is he up to now?”

“I’m not sure. The shift in temporal realities has stopped, so whatever it was, I believe it’s over now. But the readings are still off the charts, and the pressure in the room is...wrong.”

Peggy groaned as a piercing pain stabbed through her skull, but a few memories at the mention of temporal realities flooded back. Damn Howard. What had he been thinking? Time machines. Would his active mind never realize it’s limits?

Footsteps fell nearby, stopping when they reached her. Probably Howard himself. They were going to have quite the conversation once she could get her eyes open.

“Jemma,” a male voice in another English accent said quietly. All right, so that was definitely not Howard. “There’s a woman here.”

Who the bloody hell was Jemma? Had Howard hired more servants she never met? Where was Mr. Jarvis?

Why were Howard’s helpers always English?

Despite the excruciating pain, Peggy forced her eyes open. The young man in front of her flinched, then blinked at her and went positively pale.

“Jemma....” he said again.

“Just a moment, Fitz, I’m still gathering recordings...”

“I’m sorry,” Peggy interrupted, voice raw and hoarse. But she was pleased it still sounded firm and in control. “But who exactly are you, and what are you doing in Howard’s mansion?”

“Jemma,” the man squeaked, eyes wide.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Fitz!” Heels clicked quietly and then a young woman with brown hair peered down at her. Like the supposed Fitz, her eyes went wide. She stared at Peggy, opening and closing her mouth a few times, before reaching for some sort of device in her ear.

“Coulson?” She said, her voice several octaves higher. “You need to get to the mansion immediately.”

“Why? What did Stark do now, Simmons?” a voice asked through the earpiece.

“It’s...” she exchanged a look with Fitz, looking absolutely baffled.

At least Peggy wasn’t the only one. She rubbed her temples, trying to figure out what situation Howard had gotten her in now. Where had he gone? Surely he hadn’t left her in the basement after that orb flashed. That was the last thing she remembered, before darkness. Arguing with him about the ridiculous notion of the...of the...

Oh. Oh, bloody hell.

“It’s....” Simmons said again. “It’s Agent Carter, sir.”

“What do you mean? What about her?”

“She’s here, sir. In Stark’s mansion.”

For a moment, there was total silence. Then the voice at the other end spoke.

“Well. That’s new.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention that I'm not a history buff so please excuse any historical inaccuracies!

The young man, Fitz, helped her to her feet. Peggy took a moment to take in the room. Mold and mildew permeated her senses, and there was no sign of the glowing orb. Dust covered the few items remaining in Howard’s workshop; it had clearly not been frequented in years.

She’d apparently been sent into the future, then. Delightful.

She eyed the man and woman nervously staring at her. Best to start with them and figure out what to do next.

Peggy cleared her throat, and focused on the woman, who was holding a small, stick-like device in her hand. “Are you a scientist?”

“Yes, ma’am. We both are.”

“Agent Carter is fine, as it appears you already know of me.” She tried not to let that be too bothersome, strange as it was. “And what are your names?”

“Agent Fitz and Agent Simmons, ma’am” Fitz said. “We’re agents of Shield.”

Peggy blinked. “Shield? Is that a new branch of the SSR?”

Once more, the two agents stared at her with wide-eyes. Great. What had she said that was wrong?

“Agent Carter,” Simmons began. “What year is it?”

Peggy lifted an eyebrow. “That’s the question I should be asking you, isn’t it?”

Simmons tilted her head. “You understand what happened?”

“Clearly, Howards’s ruddy time machine he built in 1947 worked, and I’ve been flung somehow into the future. Without Howard, as he’s nowhere to be found. Typical. I’m hoping the two of are capable scientists and can get me home?”

Fitz and Simmons nodded. “I didn’t think such a thing was possible, but...we’ll try our best,” Fitz said.

“Excellent. A memory eraser might be a considerable help, as well. I’d hate to go home and destroy the future due to knowledge I’ve gained while here.” The mere thought of it made her mouth dry. The damage she could cause....

Honestly. WHAT had Howard been thinking?

“Of-of course.” Simmons said. “We can definitely come up with something.”

“Wonderful. Now. Tell me the year. And is there any way we can get out of this smelly basement?”

“There are slightly better visiting quarters available upstairs,” a voice, the one at the other end of Simmon’s communicator, said to the left. Peggy turned to see a short man in a leather jacket striding her way. “Why don’t we go up and have a chat?”

He came to a stop in front of Peggy and smiled, offering a hand. “Agent Phil Coulson. It’s nice to see you, Agent Carter.”

There was something in his tone, in the way his eyes crinkled at her. ”We know each other?” Peggy asked. His eyes were kind, but she felt no flicker of recognition while staring at him.

His smile grew. “Briefly. I had the pleasure of meeting you when I joined Shield.”

“I’m going to need someone to explain to me what Shield is.”

“Of course,” Coulson nodded, gesturing to the stairs. Peggy took the hint and followed him up them.

“It’s a sort of upgrade to the SSR,” Coulson continued, while they went back out of the bookcase, which appeared the same. “You actually started it in 1948 with Colonel Phillips and Howard Stark.”

Only a year after the time she’d recently left. Interesting.

“I see,” was all Peggy said, studying the rest of the house while they walked down the hall. The title of the agency she’d founded was not lost on her. Shield. It had a nice ring to it, and brought images of bright blue eyes blinking at her from behind vibranium to mind.

Best to put those memories aside.

“I see there’s been some redecorating,” she commented, while they walked into the main sitting room. While the bookcase and the basement had remained somewhat familiar, the rest of the house was not. Bold colors, flashy paintings, and numerous extravagant sofas and chairs had littered the mansion before.

Now it was practically empty.

“I take it Howard has found a better mansion to stay in?” Peggy asked, glancing around. “Is he available in this timeline? I have a few words for him.”

Peggy turned, caught Coulson’s slight wince. “I see.” Something twisted in her stomach, stretching up her spine and settling into her shoulders. Howard was obnoxious on his best day, an outright pain on his worst.

But he was always there. Somehow, he was the one thing she could count on.

“Please tell me the year I’ve stumbled into,” she said quietly.

Coulson, to his credit, did not look away or hesitate. “It’s 2017.”

“Two thousand—-“ Peggy cut herself off, struggling to breathe. She’d assumed perhaps the nineteen-sixties, maybe even the seventies. Certainly not _seventy years_ later.

Coulson held her gaze steadily, waiting for the information to sink in. Fitz and Simmons remained silent behind him.

“Crikey O’Reily,” Peggy finally managed.

 

 

 

“Fitz,” Coulson said calmly. “Perhaps you can find Agent Carter some whiskey. I’m sure Stark has some around here somewhere.”

Peggy started as Fitz hurried off. “But I thought you said....”

“Howard is gone,” Coulson said in that steady, patient voice. “But he has a son. He owns the mansion, though he rarely stays here.” His mouth turned up a little. “Though I probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”

“Fitz and Simmons have promised a memory eraser for me to take when I return home so I do not alternate any timelines,” Peggy told him as Fitz reappeared with the whiskey. “Thank you, Fitz.” She accepted the glass and knocked it back, welcoming the burn and warmth curling through her chest.

Handing the glass back to Fitz, she returned her attention to Coulson. “Anything you tell me now will promptly be forgotten once it’s time for me to leave. You may speak freely.”

“Is that a promise you can back up, FitzSimmons?” Coulson asked.

“The memory eraser? Absolutely sir,” Simmons said.

“The time machine may take a bit longer,” Fitz muttered.

“Well, if anyone can do it, you two can.” Coulson shifted, sighed. “Although there’s one other person you’ll need to help you. It’s probably not going to go over well.”

“Who would that be? And why would it not go over well?” Peggy asked.

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m supposed to be dead. I’ll never hear the end of this, he’ll find ways to make me pay for years,” he said, sighing.

When Peggy sent him a curious look he said, “It’s a long story. But I suppose we’ll have time to explain on the way.”

“And who will we be seeing?” Peggy demanded.

“How would you like to meet Howard’s son?”

 

 

 

 

 _Avengers_ , Peggy thought, staring at a series of folders. Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Of which Tony Stark was a sort of leader, using a mechanical suit he’d made himself.

It boggled the mind, but wasn’t too surprising. He was Howard’s son, after all.

The man in the photo attached to the file certainly resembled Howard, although he was much older than the Howard she had left. The obvious swagger, the cocky tilt of his head, and the mischief in his eyes were all dead ringers. Even the facial hair was slightly similar.

But there was something that lurked behind the mischief in this Stark’s eyes. The sunshades he wore covered it a bit, but Peggy saw it all the same. Pain and suffering lingered there, in a way it never really had in Howard’s. The report in her hands mentioned something about Afghanistan, and Peggy wondered if something happened there to cause that pain, or if it were the result of something else. The file was clearly doctored and sparse on details, so it was rather hard to tell.

She’d seen the same pain linger in so many eyes after the war. Including her own.

Gently setting the folder, and the ache in her heart the photo caused, aside, she opened the next.

Evidently Tony had made a suit for his best friend, as well. Peggy approved of Colonel James Rhodes as a pilot for the War Machine suit. She read his file, appreciating the notes on his Air Force career, and had to smile softly. He’d clearly been the perfect friend for a Stark.

After Rhodes was a folder on some man named Vision, and no matter how many times Peggy read that file, she didn’t quite understand if he were a computer, or a man, or a robot. Coulson’s simple reply of “all of the above” when she’d asked had done nothing to clear matters up. So she resolved to study it more later.

The last folder was of a woman with vibrant red hair. Coulson said there were other Avengers, but there’d been a bit of a falling out with them. As Peggy wouldn’t meet them at the Compound they headed toward, he didn’t include their files.

Sensible, though it was a shame. She was rather nosey, and wanted to know more.

Still. She stared at Natasha Romanoff‘s file for a long time. Unlike Tony’s photo, there was no pain in her eyes. There was instead seemingly nothing at all; only blue eyes gazing blankly at the camera. Though her file was just as doctored as Stark’s, Peggy understood enough. A young girl trained to be a killer at an early age. One of the most ruthless assassins the world had ever known.

Running her hand over the file, Peggy remembered Dottie Underwood. And wondered how many other girls there were out there who might’ve suffered the same fate.

“Attention, random Shield agents,” a voice snapped through the jet. Closing the folder, Peggy watched Coulson shake his head.

“You are approaching confidential, Avengers-only, airspace. As you do not have permission to be in our superhero skies, you have approximately three minutes to turn around or I will send a team of Iron Man suits after you and blast your ass to kingdom come.”

Peggy blinked. Coulson only sighed.

“If this is somehow Maria Hill, I’ll give you a pass. You’ve grown on me and Nat’s fond of you, and I am not risking pissing off the Black Widow,” the voice continued. “If this is Fury, you two-faced ass bastard, we have a lot of catching up to do, where I punch you in the face and you explain where the fuck you’ve been the last two years.”

“Good Lord,” Peggy said. _This_ was Howard’s son? Not even Howard was so crass.

“Believe it or not, he actually grows on you,” Coulson said.

“Hmm,” was all Peggy replied.

The voice continued. “If this is Romanoff, and you stole this jet to come home early, hi, and I really hope your brought Philly cheese-steak sandwiches back with you. Anyone else, you’ve got one and a half minutes left. Toodle-ooo.”

Fitz and Simmons flustered a bit at the front of the jet. Coulson smiled genially at everybody and picked up the radio.

“Stark.”

Peggy tilted her head; surely he would say more? From the absolute silence at the other end of the radio, it seemed likely that Stark didn’t recognize—-

“Agent?” Tony belted out suddenly. “Son of a bitch! Really? REALLY?!”

“Can we have permission to land, Stark? There’s something you need to see.”

“Is it the fact that you are quite obviously NOT DEAD, what the _fuck_ Coulson?”

“Other than me,” Coulson said patiently, unbothered by the shouting at the other end of the line. “Tony. It’s important.”

“Fine,” Tony huffed. “But you’re telling me where Fury is so I can kick his ass for telling us you were dead, that lying sack of—-“

“Technically, he didn’t lie, Stark. I did die. It just didn’t stick.”

“Yah huh,” Stark replied. “Whatever. You can land. But if this a bullshit excuse to get back into my good graces, _I'm_ tasing _you_ and watching Supernanny this time.”

“I never actually did that,” Coulson said when everybody in the jet gaped at him.

Fitz and Simmons ducked their heads into their hands and laughed while Coulson asked the pilot to land the jet. Peggy stared at them all bemusedly and wondered what the devil Howard had gotten her into.

 

 

 

Coulson was the first to exit the jet. Simmons and Fitz followed , leaving Peggy to bring up the rear. From what she could see as she descended the ramp, Stark awaited them in the grass in front of an enormous building, in a three piece suit with his arms folded across his chest.

“Nice to see you among the living, Agent Not Dead,” Tony said as Coulson came to a stop in front of him. “Do I get an explanation as to where you’ve been for almost six years, or are you just here to be an ass?”

“It’s a long story, Stark.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony waved a hand, but Peggy noted that his jaw was clenched. “Not like we could’ve used your help with the Accords or anything, when a paper pusher government type would have been _insanely_ useful—-“

“I’m sorry about that, Stark,” Coulson said quietly. “I wish I could have helped.”

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Agent.”

“I realize that. But first,” Coulson said, gesturing to Peggy. “There’s someone you need to see. She needs your help.”

Stark’s eyes drifted away from Coulson for the first time, and locked on Peggy.

The shock was subtle. His left hand twitched, and behind his sunshades, Tony’s eyes widened, just a bit. Otherwise he was still as stone, and stared at Peggy with nostrils slightly flared.

No one moved.

“What,” Tony finally breathed, “the _hell_.”

“I can explain,” Coulson started, but Stark ripped off his sunshades and stomped Coulson’s way, jabbing them at the agent.

“What the fuck is this? Is this some kind of sick joke? Who the hell is that?”

Peggy decided she’d let the men speak long enough. Stepping in front of Coulson, she held a hand out and sent Tony a smile. “Agent Peggy Carter of the SSR. Pleasure to meet you—-or re-meet you—, Mr. Stark.”

He flinched. The attitude vanished, just for a moment. Instead, his shoulders hunched in just a tad, and Peggy had the distinct impression that she’d hurt him somehow. Her outstretched hand went ignored. Stepping back, wondering if she’d completely buggered things, Peggy put her hand to her side and glanced at Coulson.

“It appears Howard Stark found a way to create a time machine,” Coulson said.

Tony kept his eyes firmly on Coulson, disregarding Peggy completely. Lovely. Evidently Jarvis had not been around while the man was being raised. She’d seen better manners in two year-old children.

“Dad never created a time machine,” Tony snapped.

“I can quite assure you that he did,” Peggy informed him. “Agents Fitz and Simmons promised to get me home, with a memory easer so I do not disturb the realities of time. Agent Coulson thought you would be beneficial in getting a machine created. Surely since Howard created one in 1947, it shall be no problem to construct one now?”

“Oh yeah, Stark Industries manufactures thousands every day,” Tony said dryly.

Peggy didn’t care for the cheek. “Are you willing to help me out or not, Mr. Stark?”

The flinch—much more subtle this time—snapped through him again. Peggy frowned. Should she comment on it? Coulson gave no indication of noticing them, and Fitz and Simmons were too busy gawking at the Compound building to know either way.

Best to keep it to herself for the moment, then.

“Yeah, all right,” he said finally. “Come on in.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You two!” Tony barked at Fitz and Simmons. “Find an empty lab and get to work. Don’t touch anything you shouldn’t. Ask an adult if you get confused. Coulson, go with them, keep them in line. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about the whole, you’re-supposed-to-be-dead-thing,” he warned, stomping through the monstrous compound. “We are coming back to that. But for now keep watch on the baby agents. Au—Agent Carter, come with me. We’ll have a drink and you can tell me about this mess Dad got you in.”

“Splendid,” Peggy murmured while the group split up, trying to keep her eyes from popping out of her head. She felt like she had stepped into a World of Tomorrow expo, only the building she was currently rushed through was far more sleek and sophisticated than any of the expos she’d attended. Walking through, head swiveling left and right, made her feel completely out of place for the first time. Not even the impressive jet had made her feel so discombobulated. Large screens dominated practically every wall, and holo-images hovered everywhere.

Holo-images. Bloody fantastic, that. She’d have to convince Stark to let her get a closer look.

“Are all homes this advanced in this time, or is the Avenger Compound an entity of its own?” Peggy asked Stark.

“Most homes are completely different than what you’d be used to, but the Compound is on a different level,” Tony said, leading her into an elevator. He pressed a button and looked her in the eye for the first time. “Okay, crash course on the 21st century: some things are better, some are worse. We’ve got small computers that fit in our pockets that originally started with the function of being a phone, but now has the ability to answer any question you’ll ever have thanks to the internet. They are also capable of still being a phone, but most people won’t answer if you call them, it’s a thing. Most are probably too busy looking at cat videos. That’s also a thing, don’t ask me to explain, it confuses the hell out of me. Except Grumpy Cat. Him, I get.”

The elevators opened and Tony strolled down a hallway, still talking. “Sending a text message or using video calls is the way to go. The food is better, it’s made faster, and we’ve had major breakthroughs in both engineering and medical fields. Equality for woman and minorities have improved, but it’s still a hell of a battle for both, and most people are still selfish assholes.”

He paused in front of a set of wooden doors that seemed out of place in the Compound; everything else was silver or black, including the doors. Intriguing. Why was this section so different?

“Are we going inside?” Peggy asked, when he didn’t move for a few moments.

Stark squared his shoulders and shoved open the door. “There’s still a lot of fighting and fucked up things occurring in the world,” he continued, as if the pause had never happened, “but we’re working on it. Radio shows are no longer a thing, now people are obsessed with reality television, which is hilarious until you realize it’s really not. And Baby Shark is the new obsessive craze, which drives most adults absolutely insane and thrills small children.”

“Surely you realize I don’t understand half of what you just said,” Peggy commented as he guided them down a hall and into a sitting room area.

“Most people don’t,” he said, turning to the bar.

“This room is nice. Rather cozy. Reminds me of home, just a tad,” Peggy commented. She supposed that was strange, that a room in a place like this reminded her of relaxing with Mr. Jarvis or watching Angie dash about while she read. But somehow, it did. Rich, reliable colors lined the walls, and the furniture wasn’t too different from what Sousa had in his sitting room. Despite Stark’s earlier words, there was even an old-fashioned radio on the nearby bookcase.

“Yeah. Figured this would be easiest on you,” Tony said, turning back around. His voice seemed tight, but his attitude and posture hadn’t changed at all.

Why did she get the sense that she’d hurt him again somehow?

With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Tony handed her a glass. Peggy accepted, taking a large sip. Her lips curved—-it had been a long time since she’d had bourbon, not since she’d been out to LA. The familiar taste soothed her, and she felt the tension in her shoulders relax as she sipped her favorite drink.

Something buzzed in the back of her mind at that, an an instinctive reaction, followed by a sharp realization, that had her slowly lowering her glass.

“What’s wrong?” Tony frowned. “I swear it isn’t poisoned.”

“You know I have a secret fondness for bourbon.” It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t. But there were only a handful of people in the world who knew she enjoyed it.

Including, apparently, Tony Stark.

Tony blinked. “What? No, I just...lucky guess. It’s my fav—-”

Did he honestly think she would buy that? “Mr. Stark, please don’t lie. Clearly, we know each other. Why have you been acting like you didn’t know me very well?”

Setting his own glass down with his right hand, Tony reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with his left. “Seeing as how you’re a good twenty years younger than you were when I was born, I thought it would be easier. You don’t know me.”

“But you know me,” she said quietly. “Rather well, it appears. Which makes sense, I suppose, if Howard and I remained friends.”

Tony said nothing, only stared at the counter.

“Mr. Stark—-”

His eyes snapped up. “Yeah, Agent Carter. I know you,” he said miserably. His eyes were bright, nearly shining, and the heartache that she’d felt for him on the jet came roaring back. How was it he managed to make her feel heartbroken and exasperated with him at the same time?

“How well—?”

He sighed. “I know you like bourbon because every time you saw Dum Dum Dugan after the war you shared a bottle and it grew on you. I know you and Jarvis got together every August to celebrate your little adventures and attempted to get into some kind of trouble once again, of which Ana inevitably joined you or bailed you out. I know you never go anywhere without red lipstick in your pocketbook, and I know that you were one of the few people Dad actually listened to, and never crossed.”

Flabbergasted, Peggy blinked at him. What did she say to that? She’d evidently been closer to him than she’d originally thought. Instead of a friend that visited once a while, his description made her seem more like...like...

Like family. Dear Lord. No wonder he’d reacted so poorly when Coulson dropped her off in his front yard.

Tony sighed again, picking up his drink, and sent her a sad smile. “I was a constant disappointment and pain in the ass to you, but you picked me back up every time I fucked up. Dad was the weapons developer, but you taught me to shoot my first gun. After the third time I got kidnapped, you decided enough was enough and taught me how to shoot and self-defense moves.”

“The _third_ time?” Peggy felt the shock of it ripple through her. Howard’s child had been kidnapped more than once? “How many times were you kidnapped?”

“More than that,” he said flatly. “You and Jarvis were...” he trailed off, took a sip of his bourbon. “Anyway. Yes, Agent Carter. You and Dad stayed friends. We knew each other well. You were my....you were there a lot.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember,” Peggy began, but Tony cut her off.

“Nothing to apologize for, not your fault Dad built a fucking time machine and sent you to the damn future. Although what the hell he was thinking is beyond me, even I know better than to mess with time.”

“Mr. Stark, you should really watch your language.” Peggy said, lifting an eyebrow. “I fought in the war, and heard that talk all the time, but you are putting those men to shame.”

Tony stared at her for a moment and burst out laughing. “Christ, you two really are made for each other, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Peggy picked up her drink and lifted an eyebrow. “Who are you referring to? Who’s perfect for each other?”

Tony blinked. “What do you mean, who am I—-“ he trailed off, panic-stricken. “Oh my God. No. No, no, no, no, no. FUCK. Coulson didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m going to kill him. I wondered why you didn’t say anything, why you didn’t ask...oh, fuck. Dammit all to fucking hell.”

“Mr. Stark.”

He ignored her. “FRIDAY! Get Agent Lying Ass on a line, pronto, please.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” An Irish, female voice said. Peggy started—-she hadn’t thought anyone else was in the room. But after an intense study, she was rather certain there wasn’t. Which made no bloody sense at all. Who had spoken?

“Friday’s my AI,” Tony said at her confused expression. “Which I promise to explain later. Coulson!” He barked when Agent Coulson’s voice filtered through, seemingly coming from a speaker in the ceiling.

“No one has destroyed anything in your lab, Stark.”

“They damn well better not.” Tony growled. “But that’s not what I want to talk about. Come clean with me, Coulson. Does Agent Carter know?”

There was a pause. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Do _not_ fuck with me right now, Phil. Did you tell her?”

Another pause. “We thought it would be best coming from you.”

“You thought—-“ Tony choked off, running a hand over his face. “Why the _hell_ would you think I’m the best person, you know what’s gone down here, God DAMMIT, Coulson. We will talk about this later, too. Fry, hang up on him.”

Prowling through the living room, Tony continued to curse and mutter under his breath. Peggy took another drink to calm her nerves, making sure her hands were steady, then took a deep breath to face the man about two seconds from spontaneously combusting.

“Mr. Stark.” Peggy said. He stopped, wincing.

“I feel like I’ve handled this whole situation rather well, all things considered,” Peggy continued, “but you are making my nerves stand on edge. Whatever is the matter? What do I need to know?”

“There’s something....hell. I don’t know how to do this.” Tony stomped back to the bar, poured another glass of bourbon. Knocking it back, he closed his eyes briefly, then opened them back up and locked his gaze with Peggy’s.

“Steve Rogers is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know he's been absent so far, but I promise Steve shows up soon and it will be worth the wait <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, there's a slight panic attack this chapter as Peggy deals with news of Steve being alive. Please take care if that's a problem!

“What did you say?” She wasn’t trembling. She wasn’t. Just because he was playing a horrible joke, trying to get a rise out of her, didn’t mean she was reacting to it.

Stark took a deep breath. “Steve’s alive, Peggy.”

How could he say such a thing? What was it with the Stark men today, latching onto her feelings for Steve and yanking her heart out of her chest? Steve wasn’t alive and she wasn’t traveling through time to him. It was preposterous. A horrid joke.

The trembling vanished. Instead, a cool, steady calm she felt only on the battlefield or in the middle of combat swept over her.

“You shouldn’t joke of such things,” she said, voice deadly soft. “I’ve shot men for less.”

“Believe it or not, I’m aware of that. And it’s not a joke. It’s a long story, but it’s not a—-fuck!”

Her right hook knocked him to his knees.

She stood over him, fists still clenched, lips pressed together while she fought to control her breathing. He’d just casually, foolishly tossed it out there, like she was supposed to believe it. Like she was supposed to participate in some cruel, twisted humor about Steve being alive 70 years after his death. Perhaps it was a morbid way to joke around in the future. Whatever the game, Peggy wasn’t playing.

Stark pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his jaw. “Dammit, Aunt Peg! Ow!”

“Au—-AUNT PEG?! What the bloody hell do you mean by that?!“

“I told you, you and Dad stayed close!” Tony snapped. “Excuse me for accidentally letting it slip that you were my honorary aunt after you clocked me in the face. I should have _known_ that’s how you would react, fucking Coulson, this is all his fault. And that’s gonna leave a bruise and Pep will be pissed, she hates when I get bruised before board meetings.”

The anger wilted out of her, like some flower that suddenly realized it had gone too long without rain. “I have no idea what you’re saying,” Peggy said faintly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stark muttered. “Look I’m sorry about the aunt thing, that slipped, we don’t need to bring it up again. But the truth is, because of the aunt thing, I know you well. I know how much St—-Captain Rogers meant to you. I wouldn’t lie. He’s alive, Agent Carter.”

Her knees were shaking. Pressing her lips together in a firm line, Peggy forced out one word. “How?”

Tony ran a hand over his already darkening jaw. Her right hook had always been her best move. “It’s a long story. The short version is, after the Valkyrie went down, the serum and the ice kept him alive in a frozen state. A little less than 70 years later, Shield found him, thawed him out. He’s been living in this era since.”

Peggy simply sank to the floor. “Alive? He was _alive_ the entire time?” The rolling in her stomach had waves of nausea washing through her. He’d been alive. Her Steve, her Captain, had been _alive_.

And she’d just....she’d just...

“We left him,” she whispered, horrified. “He was alive and we left him in the ice to freeze for 70 years?”

“No! No, no, no, Peggy, there was no way you could have known! Don’t go there, okay? Please. You can’t think that, you can’t—-oh, hell.” He stopped when Peggy surged to her feet and stumbled to the trash can by the bar. “Okay. That’s okay, that’s...probably to be expected,” he said over her heaving.

His words barely registered. Gripping the little basin, Peggy shuddered, the shaking starting in her shoulders and trembling through her body, while a fierce, agonizing vise gripped her heart.

She’d _left_ him. Alone. Frozen and forgotten for _seventy years_.

How could she have done such a thing?

The soft hand on her shoulder made her flinch back, wiping her eyes. When a handkerchief dropped on her line of sight, she accepted it, head down, while she wiped at her mouth.

“I realize the news is a bit of a shock,” Tony said quietly, settling next to her on the floor. “Surprised the hell out of all of us too, when he was first found. No one could believe it. Steve is...a wonder. There’s so much we don’t know about him. About how the serum works.” He shifted, brushing his shoulder against hers, in a companionable way that made her realize he was offering comfort.

And for a moment, it was almost as if both Jarvis and Howard were there with her. The comfort gave her the strength to lift her head, and face the situation head on.

“The thing is,” Tony continued after a while. “There’s a lot I don’t know about Steve Rogers.” His tone was weary, as if he’d discovered that fact the hard way at some point. “But if there’s one thing I do know...if there’s one thing _anyone_ that has met Steve knows...it’s that he wouldn’t want you to think him being in the ice for 70 years is your fault.”

Peggy stared at the wall. “I didn’t even search for him.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It might sound crazy, but Steve actually knows exactly how that feels.”

“What do you mean? And don’t tell me it’s a long story,” she snapped when he hesitated.

“Well, it IS. And I’m not sure that’s my story to tell.”

“Fine,” she huffed. She would bloody well ask someone else, then.

She could ask Steve.

The air in her lungs vanished. How? How could he possibly be alive, in this time? Where was the fairness in the universe? If he survived the plane crash, if he hadn’t died like they’d all thought, why the bloody hell didn’t he get to _come home_? Howard and others spent months searching for the crash site, looking for the Tesseract, why couldn’t he have found Steve? How could he have possibly missed him?

The shaking started back up, bile rising in her throat. She’d left him. She’d left him, she’d left him, she’d...

“Peggy? Agent Carter, you need to breathe. Can you hear me? Peggy, come on, no need to try and win the world record for holding your breath, just take a small inhale, I would really appreciate if you could—“

The sob tore out of her before she could control it. It shuddered down, reaching into the very depths of her, grabbing that closed off, hidden part of her heart she’d locked away two years ago, and wretched it free, slicing her to shreds while it did so.

“I promised him he wouldn’t be alone.”

Her voice broke as she said it, a long ago memory of Steve sitting in a destroyed bar flashing through her mind. She’d sworn, after Bucky died, and Steve vowed to go after the Red Skull, she’d sworn he wouldn’t be alone.

And yet she’d left him alone in the ice for over half a century.

“It was his choice,” Tony said softly. “You know that, he told you that. And he doesn’t regret it. He regrets not getting to go back to you, not getting to celebrate the end of the war, but he doesn’t regret his choice. And he wasn’t alone, Peggy. You were there with him, before the crash. He never forgot that.”

“How do you know that?” she rasped.

“He’s the first Avenger, Agent Carter. Trust me. I know.”

He was alive. And...here? He was here. She could prove it to herself. Squaring her shoulders, Peggy asked, “Where is he, Mr. Stark? Can I see him?”

Tony blanched. “Um.”

“Um? Is that a new synonym for ‘Yes, Agent Carter, he’ll be here momentarily’ in the future?”

“He’s not exactly here.”

“And where would he be? When will he be returning? And why wouldn’t Agent Coulson have given me his file when he filled me in on the rest of the Avengers?”

Tony pushed to his feet. “Christ, I forgot how many questions you ask, and how stubborn you can be. I need another drink.”

“Questions of Steve drive you to drink?”

“Pretty much,” Tony snorted, pouring more bourbon. “It’s complicated.”

Peggy strode over, planted her hands on her hips. “Un-complicate it.”

“I can’t, Peggy. We...” he trailed off, looking away. “We had a disagreement that turned into a...fucked up situation. He’s gone. He and a few of the other Avengers took off, formed their own team. They aren’t coming back.”

“You expect me to believe you cannot contact him with one of your many futuristically advanced machines?”

Tony’s lips twisted in a ghost of a smile. “It’s not that simple. He can’t just come back. He’s kinda on the run.”

She gaped at him. “Are you telling me that Steven Rogers—- _Captain America_ —- is on the lam?”

In what world was that even possible?

Tony snorted. “Yeah. He uh...there was a superhero registration act, basically. The UN wanted the Avengers leash, wanted us to be put in check. I threw my lot in with them, to try and keep us in control of it, to keep us from being forced to sign. Steve didn’t see things that way. He refused to sign, and left.”

That made more sense. She could easily picture Steve, a veteran of WWII, having issues with a group of people being forced to sign and submit themselves to something. Even her back was put up by it, though she could see the logic in Tony’s reasoning.

Flawed though it was.

She kept that to herself, however, while she studied Tony. Already Peggy had learned his tells, subtle though they were. His eyes dropped to the floor when he spoke of it, despite a flippant tone. He wasn’t telling her everything. But she got the feeling it wasn’t because he was being a pain. But rather because, whatever the reason, it was difficult to talk about.

“There’s more to the story than that, isn’t there?” She asked softly.

He sighed again. “You could say that. But it’s not my story to tell.”

A little knife twisted in her heart. “So you’ve no way of contacting him, then?” She refused to let the disappointment—-a blinding, weighty stone crushing her chest, consuming her world, making it hard to breathe—-show. Stark wouldn’t help her? Fine, then. She’d find another way to solve the problem. Mind whirling, she forced a smile on her face, put a light tone to her voice. “I’ll just go have a check on Fitz and Simmons in the lab, then, shall I?”

Turning, Peggy headed for the door, when a defeated voice sounded behind her.

“Wait.” Tony sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m about to admit this, Ross has been insisting I’ve been lying for months.”

Peggy frowned. It was unlikely she would ever understand what he was saying, but she ought to give it a go regardless. “What?”

“I can contact Steve.”


	5. Chapter 5

Peggy blinked. “You can contact Steve? But you just said...”

“Yeah, I know what I said. And if anyone ever finds out I can contact Rogers, they’ll have my head on a platter.” Scowling, and continuing to run his hand through his hair so frequently it stood straight up at the back, Tony stormed around the sitting room.

“Two weeks after our falling out—-after we bashed the hell out of each other and damn near came to fatal blows—-the asshole sends me a letter apologizing, complete with the worlds oldest cell phone telling me to call him if I needed him, _he’d be there_.”

The sneer at the end of his sentence showed just how much he cared for that statement. Carefully picking through the anger, Peggy said, “And will you?”

“Will I what?” Tony said tiredly, coming to a stop and staring out the window.

“Will you call him, Mr. Stark?”

“Dammit,” Tony huffed, slumping forward and letting his head rest on the window. “I want to say no. I want to say no, and let the jackass suffer, and let him see how it feels to be kept in the dark.”

But his hand went to his pocket, and he pulled out a small device, continuing to argue with himself. “He doesn’t deserve—there’s no way I can...” Stark trailed off, banging his head lightly against the window once. Peggy held her breath—nothing she could say or do now would make a difference. The choice to be made here wasn’t hers at all, and it gutted her.

Yet somehow she kept silent while Stark waged his internal battle, never once commenting on the fact that despite his self-proclaimed hated of Captain America, he carried the device Steve Rogers had given him.

Yanking his hand up, Tony flipped the device open, and pressed a button.

Peggy found herself unable to move.

“Rogers,” Tony barked when a soft voice responded on the other end of the line. Peggy’s heart felt one vicious squeeze, as if Red Skull himself had punched straight through her chest and sought to crush her very essence.

Steve.

That was _Steve_ on the other side of that conversation, she could barely make out the words but she would know that soft rumble anywhere. Everything Tony had told her hadn’t been a lie. Steve was alive. He was alive, and he was talking to Stark, and he would be there soon.

It was enough to make her iron clad resolve weaken a little and had her knees wobbling again.

Belatedly Peggy realized an invasive roar, not dissimilar to a train, clouded her senses, filling her head. Shaking herself, she tuned back in to understand what Stark was saying.

“Yeah, surprised the hell out of me that I called, too. We need you here, ASAP. No, the world’s not ending.” Peggy could see the eye-roll from across the sitting room. “Ah, ah! See, this is the part where you don’t get to ask me questions, Rogers. You turned your back on that deal. So you have two choices. Make your way back, as fast as you can, or ignore me. Don’t choose option B. I can’t explain right now, but you don’t want to do that.”

Tony’s eyes flickered to Peggy’s for an instant before jerking away. “The world isn’t ending, no one is in danger. But you need to be here, Rogers. And before you think of insulting me, it’s not a trap. This is a full on white flag, FRIDAY and I will keep everyone off your ass while you sneak back into the States. Ask King Kitten if you can borrow a jet.”

Tony paused, then snorted. “I told you not to fucking insult me, Rogers, of course I know you’re in Wakanda. Who do you think you’re speaking to? You’re not exactly Captain Subtle. No, the Avengers are not in any danger. Yes, Rhodey’s doing great, thank you for asking. But I hate that you asked that, so fuck off. Look, Talking Time is over. Get your ass here as soon as you can without getting caught.”

Snapping the phone closed, he hissed and tossed the device onto the sofa. Peggy’s eyes zeroed in on it—-could she pick it back up and use it to connect with Steve again? She could, of course she could, but...

But did she really want to speak with Steve for the first time in 70 years over the telephone?

Right. That answer was fairly simple. Squaring her shoulders, Peggy went to confront Stark, who looked like he wished to go a few rounds in a boxing ring or throttle the first person he saw.

She’d handle him if he decided to lash out.

Civility would be the best approach. Doubtful that conversation had been easy for him, if the hints he’d given at his and the Captain’s argument were anything to go by.

And yet, he had looked past all that, and made the call anyway. Perhaps there was a friendship there that could be saved. Steve wouldn’t have sent that phone if he thought—or wanted—-otherwise.

When Tony snarled and prepared to stomp his way back over to the bar, Peggy moved to stand in his way, so that he had no choice but to hear the words she had to say.

“Thank you,” she told him, hoping he realized just how much the call had meant to her. He was giving her a chance to see Steve, when all she’d originally expected out of him was permission to use the ruddy holograms. “I’m sure Captain Rogers will be quite grateful once he arrives, and-“

Tony cut her off with a wave of his hand and a harsh laugh. “Don’t bother thanking me, Agent Carter. The minute we start bitching at each other as soon as he gets here tomorrow, you’ll wish you never had.”

“That could never possibly be true. And I’m sure Steve will appreciate your gesture when he’s here.”

Tony nodded, his hands reaching up to fiddle with the buttons of his cuff links. Realizing he was uncomfortable with gratitude, Peggy turned, preparing to pour them more bourbon while they waited.

She stopped when Stark sighed, and spoke softer than he had all night.

“I didn’t do it for him.”

He was across the room and out the door before her exhausted brain had a moment to process or respond.

 

 

 

 

What the bloody hell was she supposed to do now?

Perched at the bar, Peggy spun the bourbon bottle this way, then that, an itch between her shoulder blades. She’d half expected Stark to come storming back, but twenty minutes later she was still alone, and the urge to throw the bottle was strong.

Steve’s flat. She was in _Steve’s_ flat. The desire to search about and engulf herself in every little item in the wing was all-encompassing, but she kept herself on the bar stool. Going through Steve’s things like a love-struck teenager wasn’t going to get him there any faster, and was over-stepping boundaries to boot. Yet the urge to snoop, just a little, made her fingers dance about the countertop.

What kind of man had Steve become, in this time? Who would she be meeting, come the morning?

Pushing away from the bar, she let her gaze wander around the room, appreciating the warmth of it. Perhaps he hadn’t changed too much, if his living quarters were anything to go by. The rooms were futuristic compared to what she’d recently left, but the comforting favorites of the past surrounded her. As if he’d somehow managed to blend past with future and find his own middle.

If anyone could, it was certainly Steve Rogers.

A smile playing on her lips, Peggy moved to the window to survey the sprawling yard surrounding the Avengers Compound. Dozens of vehicles and jets lined the ground below, and Peggy wondered if she’d be able to convince Stark or Coulson to let her charter one.

Anything to quiet the count down in her mind.

At the soft knock on the door, Peggy turned.

“Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts would like to speak with you, Agent Carter,” the voice in the ceiling —-Artificial Intelligence, how ever so strange and fascinating—-said.

“Please tell them to come in,” Peggy replied. She recalled briefly seeing the name Virginia Potts in Stark’s file, and that she was noted as one of the only people capable of wrangling Tony. After meeting the man, Peggy had her doubts. Regardless, Peggy was grateful for the distraction. She’d worried the hem at her sleeve and now had a wrinkled blouse. It was her favorite blouse, blast it.

She forced her hands to still and waited, as the door opened and a slim red-haired woman walked in with Tony.

“Look, see, there she is.” Tony threw a hand out toward Peggy, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Pepper, this is Agent Peggy Carter, an operative of the SSR, the future founder of Shield, and one of the most bad ass woman to have ever lived. Peggy, this is Pep. She’s Stark Industries CEO, one of the most terrifyingly capable people on the planet, and my fiancee. There,” he said to Pepper. “Now you’ve met.”

“Tony.” The reprimand and look Pepper gave him had Peggy’s lips curving. It was such a scathing combination of annoyance and disappointment that Stark’s shoulders hunched, and Peggy’s estimation that Pepper Potts was indeed a formidable ally rising quite high.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Carter.” Pepper strolled past Stark and held out a hand. “How are you doing with all this? It appears Tony might have forgotten to do a few things, such as offering proper hospitality and making sure you’re not horribly disoriented.”

“I gave her a drink,” Tony muttered.

“I actually think you find that hospitable, so I’ll let that pass,” Pepper told him. Her attention returned to Peggy. “Is there anything we can do to make this easier for you? I can’t imagine being sent 70 years to the future is simple.”

“I doubt there’s anything that would make the situation less surreal, but I appreciate the thought, Ms. Potts.”

“Pepper,” the woman insisted. “And I know Tony saw to it that you received a drink, but when was the last time you had a chance to eat?”

“Oh.” Peggy’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. “It has been a while.”

“Hmm. There won’t be anything to eat here, and I doubt you want to deal with that mess of the cafeteria just now. Tony, go to our wing. Get Peggy some food.” Pepper ordered.

“Seriously? You _just_ bullied me down here and now you want me out?!”

Pepper only arched an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Tony grumbled. But Peggy caught the way he leaned into Pepper briefly, if only for a moment, before walking away. As if just being near her soothed and steadied him.

It was nice to at least witness one Stark with his fiancée.

“He’ll be back with more food than we’ll know what to do with,” Pepper smiled. “FRIDAY, could you try to keep it to a reasonable level?”

“I’ll do what I can, Ms. Potts.” The voice in the ceiling replied, sounding as if she were skeptical of that being a possibility.

“She sounds so real,” Peggy commented, looking at the ceiling. “Do all AIs in this time sounds so lifelike?”

Pepper smiled. “Oh, no. FRIDAY is one of a kind. There are no other AIs like her.”

“There’s not?” Surely they had them all over. Even with Peggy only being there for a few short hours, FRIDAY seemed like such a vital part of the Avenger Compound, almost as if she were another member of the team.

“Tony created her. No one else has similar technology.” Peggy didn’t miss the pride in her voice.

“That’s astounding. Howard would eat his hat in jealousy.”

Pepper winced. “Yes, well. That was always a point of contention between them.”

“The fact that Tony created artificial life?”

“The fact that Tony was smarter than Howard. Even at a young age.”

“Howard’s one of the smartest men in the world, surely he wouldn’t feel threatened by...” Peggy trailed off, thinking of the man she’d left behind that morning. The one who couldn’t stand someone thinking he wasn’t the best or the smartest in the room.

 _Oh, Howard. What have you done?_ Peggy thought. “I see. I suppose bringing up Howard is a bad idea?”

Pepper nodded. “I would forget the Aunt Peggy thing as well, if you wouldn’t mind. Tony doesn’t do awkward or feelings well. Though technically, you’re his godmother.”

“Of bloody course I am,” Peggy muttered. She was going to throttle Howard. Whether it was for the time machine or for becoming an inept father for a brilliant child, she wasn’t sure. But there was no doubt she’d have her hands full when she got back to her own time. Not that she’d remember it, if Fitz and Simmons did their jobs correctly.

The beginnings of a headache pounded at the back of Peggy’s head.

“Is there anything I’m allowed to talk with my godson about while I’m here?” Peggy asked, popping a hand on a hip, willing the headache to stay away.

Pepper pressed her lips together, and Peggy winced. That had come out more judgemental than she’d meant. She was being a pain, and slightly rude, which was unfair to both Tony and Pepper. But before she could apologize, Pepper spoke.

“Ask him about his intern,” Pepper said, smiling softly. “Or his bots. And if you’re interested in learning more about this future, ask him about clean energy.”

“Boss is also fond of telling the story of Ms. Potts becoming CEO,” FRIDAY added.

“No,” Pepper said immediately. “No one needs to relive that. It’s a long story,” she told Peggy. “One involving poisoning and Tony nearly dying. I still haven’t forgiven him for that damn omelette.”

“It does sound like a rather interesting story, though,” Peggy teased, and Pepper laughed.

“Yes, I could see that. Perhaps FRIDAY can explain later. But enough about me and Tony. Is there anything else I can help with, or explain? You probably have a thousand questions.”

“I do feel like I’m about to jump out of my own skin,” Peggy admitted. “Everything has been so bizarre, one thing occurring after the next. My mind hasn’t caught up. It doesn’t seem real.”

“You must be so overwhelmed,” Pepper said, perching on the sofa.

“Completely, and then almost not at all. It’s rather strange.”

“Well, you’re handling time travel incredibly well. All the scientists are impressed.”

“If I ran about the room screaming like a monkey, do you think it would get me home faster?” Peggy joked, but as soon as she said it, her smiled died. Odd though it was, she didn’t want to leave this time. She didn’t want to get back to Howard and his mansion. Even though she missed Jarvis and Angie so much at times she could scarcely breathe.

She couldn’t go back to her time. Not without seeing Steve.

As if Pepper knew her thoughts, she said, “You couldn’t possibly go back yet. We still have so much to show you. FRIDAY, pick a movie you think Agent Carter will like. Peggy, we’re going to watch silly films and stuff ourselves full of whatever food Tony brings and get you caught up on 2017 in no time.”

Peggy grinned. “That sounds splendid.”

And might actually keep her from wearing a path in the floor while waiting for Steve.

 

 

 

 

Later, after Peggy had indeed stuffed herself silly on pizza and breadsticks—a truly delicious appetizer that _did_ taste better in the future—-she sat on the sofa in the darkness, staring back out the window.

Thanks to Pepper and the magic of FRIDAY, Peggy’s night routine hadn’t been too different from normal. With her hair curled back, pins keeping it in place, she curled on the sofa in a pair of comfortable pajamas, not unlike what she would have worn at home. Draped over her knees was a soft, blue and gray blanket. Absently, she ran her fingers along the edge, pulling it close to her face every so often.

FRIDAY told her it had been Steve’s favorite.

She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. All of it was a little hard to truly comprehend: she was in the future, there were such things as androids and artificial assistants, and everyone she had known were long dead or damn near there.

Except the one man she had already thought lost. Already grieved. And yet she would soon be able to see him again.

Strange didn’t quite begin to cover it.

Curling in a little deeper on the sofa, Peggy closed her eyes. She’d be able to see him, her Steve. And then she’d have to go back to a life without him. The elephant in the room that no one mentioned since she’d learned Steve was alive took up her entire mind now. Try as she might, Peggy couldn’t banish it, couldn’t get rid of the small, agonizing reminder that as soon as she got her Captain back, she would be once again forced to let him go.

“Life’s awful sometimes, English,” Angie’s voice said in her head. “But you’ll be alright. Jarvis and I will be there for you. Even if you won’t remember why you need us.”

They would, she knew they would. But how could she possibly say goodbye a second time?

The little radio on the shelf clicked on. Starting, Peggy shoved up, prepared to confront anyone who had entered the flat, but relaxed when she saw no one. FRIDAY must have sensed her distress and turned it on for her. How the AI knew she listened to music when she was feeling melancholy was a mystery. Perhaps Stark knew this about her, and passed it on to his creation. Probably she should have been annoyed at the interaction, but the song rolling out of Steve’s radio was slow and lovely, and made her think of a quiet moment in a pub. Relaxing back into the sofa once again, she thought as she so often did, of a missed dance at the Stork Club.

The exhausted, confused tears that slipped out of her eyes and slowly trickled down her face went ignored. Peggy snuggled further into Steve’s blanket, swore off anymore unpleasant thoughts, and tumbled into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Clothing in the future was odd.

Peggy smoothed down the vibrant red blouse she’d chosen. Pepper had arrived with a wardrobe that morning, full of items she thought Peggy would feel comfortable in, but nothing so advanced that would make her on edge all day. Peggy rather appreciated the gesture, and had to admit she did like the fit and feel of the trousers she now wore.

The undergarments were another thing entirely. Twisting this way and that, studying the new form they seemed to have given her, she eventually threw her hands up and walked away. She felt as if she were on display, barely anything between her blouse and the bra, but if Pepper Potts deemed it acceptable, it would do.

At least she’d had her favorite tube of lipstick on her when she’d time-traveled. Strange garments she might have to wear, but her lips were blood red and perfect.

Leaving Steve’s wing, she headed for the nearest lab, following the directions FRIDAY provided. Coulson had contacted her shortly after she’d woken, asking her to come help with some labs, and answer more questions about Howard’s glowing orb. Not too surprising, considering she’d popped into their timeline so suddenly. Truthfully she had expected them to run tests on her earlier.

“We wanted a chance to let you settle,” Coulson explained later when she commented on it. Simmons carefully wrapped a tourniquet around her arm and prepared to draw more blood samples. They had gone through four vials already. “You had a lot to deal with yesterday.”

Peggy’s eyebrow lifted. “Yes,” she agreed. “The future appears to be filled with individuals presumed dead actually being quite alive.”

Coulson had the decency to look apologetic. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Captain Rogers. And I’ve apologized again to Tony and Pepper for allowing them to think I was deceased.”

“You made Pepper cry,” Tony stated, storming up behind them. Pepper herself was by his side, and gave Peggy a nod hello while the doors behind them slid close.

Rolling up his sleeves, Tony nudged Simmons out of the way and took the chart from Fitz’s hands to study it himself. Fitz frowned, but allowed it, moving to the counter to gather up test tubes.

Pepper laid a hand on Stark’s shoulder. “They were tears of joy, Tony. I’m glad Phil is alive and well.”

“They weren’t five years ago,” Tony muttered, shooting Coulson a dark look. His face was pale, and dark circles lined his eyes, making Peggy wonder if she hadn’t been the only one to have a hard time sleeping.

“Tony,” Pepper murmured, watching the flinch Coulson tried to hide.

“Yeah, all right.” Tony threw the chart on the table. Running a hand over his face, he let out a large exhale, sounding exhausted. “Sorry, Agent. I’ll let it go, on the condition that you let Peggy here free. She’s who she said she is, she traveled forward in time, and there are currently no lingering side effects about to destroy the world as we know it. Stop treating her as a lab rat. She’s fine.”

“There’s no possible way to know yet what the repercussions of Agent Carter being here might be,” Simmons argued. Tony’s next dirty look was sent her way, but she didn’t back down. “We need to be as thorough as possible...”

“In what? Draining her dry? The woman just traveled through time, Baby Agent, let her enjoy her trip before we throw her ass back.”

“We need to examine all the outcomes,” Fitz began, but Stark cut him off.

“Don’t you have a time machine to be building? Get to it. Chop, chop. Peggy, you’re free to go.”

Peggy frowned at him, annoyed by his obnoxious behavior. Wasn’t anyone going to call him on it? “They weren’t holding me hostage here, Mr. Stark. I’m perfectly fine with staying if they need further testing.”

“Fine! Stay here, be a lab rat. What do I care?” He threw his arms up, causing his balance to go off-kilter, and he swayed a little. Eyes wide, Pepper reached over to steady him before he toppled over.

“Mr. Stark, are you ill?” Peggy asked, alarmed.

“I’m fine,” Tony straightened, rolled his eyes. “Go a few nights without sleeping and people think you look like death worn over. I’m fine,” he said again, this time to Pepper, who had doubt written all over her face. Despite his flippant tone, he gently grabbed her hand. “Pull an Elsa, honey. Let it go.”

Her mouth pressed into a firm line. “Tony.”

“Seriously, Pep. Let it go.” Stepping away, he moved back to the doors. “I’ve got a time machine to make. Don’t mess up my lab!” He hollered, and stomped out.

“That was odd,” Peggy said.

“That was Tuesday,” Pepper corrected with a sigh. “Peggy, I have a meeting I need to get to in the city. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Peggy assured her.

“See you tonight, then,” Pepper said. She paused, gave Coulson a quick kiss on the cheek. “I really am happy you’re here and alive, Phil.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts. I’m happy to be here as well. And don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on Peggy and Tony.”

Pepper smiled gratefully and hurried off. Peggy lifted an eyebrow at him while Simmons moved back to take more blood.

“Whatever will you need to watch Stark for?”

“With Stark? Who knows. It’s just best to always be on your guard around him.” Then he cringed. “But, really. Behavior this morning aside, he grows on you.”

Peggy smiled. “It’s actually rather comforting knowing there’s still an irritating, obnoxious genius named Stark running around, trying to solve the worlds problems and getting annoyed at anyone who doesn’t get the hell out of the way and let him do it.”

Coulson smiled. “That’s Tony in a nutshell.”

Her own lips curved, but Peggy didn’t feel as light as she had a moment ago. “Yes. That was Howard, too.”

But she thought of Pepper’s comments from the night before. Somehow, at one point or another, Howard had changed.

 

 

 

 

 

The question of why Howard had become so dramatically different than the man she knew ate at Peggy the rest of her time in the lab.

The man she had left yesterday would by no means have been a perfect father. Nor would he have handled his son being smarter than him particularly well. But he wouldn’t have just completely neglected the child. Not in the sense she got from Tony and Pepper. Not with herself and Jarvis around.

What had happened?

Frowning over it, Peggy left the lab and wandered through the Compound. Coulson had offered to escort her but she’d demurred, preferring her own company after all the poking and prodding. Plus, she wanted an opportunity to snoop.

The first stop was the cafeteria, where Peggy met a few more scientists and nabbed a banana. It wasn’t as overwhelming as Pepper had led her to believe, but then, it was only 10am. Perhaps the lunch crowd was rambunctious. Popping her head in numerous conference rooms, Peggy headed upstairs, winding around more labs, press rooms, medical bays, and a few gyms. Making her way back to the section of the Compound for Avengers only, she prepared to take in the Communal living area when Tony’s voice erupted down the hall.

“I told you there was no cause for concern, don’t get your star-spangled panties in a twist. It’s not a defcon one situation.”

“Tony. Then why am I here?”

Peggy froze. That was Steve’s voice. Oh, Crikey O’Reilly. He was really there. This was really happening.

Tony’s words cut into her thoughts. “I told you, there’s someone here you need to see, and a video call wouldn’t cut it.“

“Please tell me you’re not holding someone here—-.”

“Oh, fuck you, Rogers, I did the best I could! If Wanda would have fucking stayed put three damn days everything would have worked out fine!”

“You don’t know that.”

“I didn’t know what would happen in Siberia, either, and look how that turned out,” Tony hissed. The venom in his voice had her eyebrows shooting up. What the bloody hell had happened in Siberia?

“Tony. I’m so s—“

“If you apologize I swear to god I will get the suit and fucking end you.”

That was just about enough. How could they speak to each other in such a way? Couldn’t Steve hear the shame and regret in Tony’s voice? Couldn’t Tony hear the plea in Steve’s?

Whatever terrible thing had occurred in Siberia, it would be resolved. Even if it was the last thing she did before she went back to 1947.

The thought fueling her, Peggy rounded the corner, arriving at a landing overlooking the communal living room. Tony noticed her first, cursing under his breath when she came to a stop and planted her hands on her hips, staring down at them.

“If you boys are quite finished, I think we have other matters to discuss.”

Tony winced, sending a wary look her way.

Steve went absolutely still.

She watched the color leech out of his face—-his strong, handsome face that now had a beard covering the lower half of it. But that was quite all right, he looked lovely with the beard, and had his shoulders always been so broad, his eyes so blue? How could she have forgotten that deep, brilliant blue?

“Peggy?”

Oh. Oh, that...was not what she’d been expecting. His voice sounded cracked, broken. Nearly similar to when he’d told her about Sergeant Barnes falling from the train. The wrongness of it made her hands grip the edge of the railing—-he should never sound so devastated when speaking her name. And why had he gone so pale? He seemed as if he’d seen a ghost, pain shining through his eyes, while his brows furrowed and his shoulders twitched. Breath hitching, he stared at her. And instead of being thrilled, or at least confused, at seeing Peggy again, he almost looked...tortured.

And then he _backed away_.

“Steve?” she questioned, glancing down at Tony, who looked just as gobsmacked as she felt.

“No,” Steve said, closing his eyes, looking down. Then took a deep, shuddering breath. “Wanda. Stop it.”

“Who the bloody hell is Wanda?” Peggy demanded, as Tony went as white as Steve.

“Oh, SHIT,” he whispered, while Steve sank to the couch, burying his head in his hands. “Rogers. Cap, no....”

“I didn’t expect you to be cruel, Tony. Tell Wanda to stop, please.”

“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Rogers, Wanda isn’t even _here_ , remember?” Tony sank to his knees next to Steve, arms helpless at his sides, while Steve ignored his words and shook his head.

“Is this revenge for Siberia?” Steve rasped, shoulders shaking a little now.

“No!” Tony cried, sounding wretched, and Peggy flew down the stairs, utterly confused but determined to make that terrible defeat in Steve’s voice disappear.

“Rogers. Listen to me, this is not in your head, this is _real_ , Peggy is really here.”

“Sure she is,” Steve stated. His face was still buried in his gloved hands, as if keeping his eyes closed and his face hidden would keep everything from being real. “Just like last time. She’s here for a dance.”

Sarcasm dripped from his voice, which was a little uncalled for, but it sounded more like him, and thank God for that. Her Captain was always far more sarcastic than most thought. Peggy reached his side, tentatively reaching out, then drawing her hand back. The last thing she wanted was to make things worse by touching him.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” She demanded.

“He—-shit. It’s a long story. He thinks this isn’t real, thinks we’re sending him a vision.”

“You have the ability to do mind spells?”

“No, fuck, what do you think I am? Our teammate—-my _former_ teammate—she can, but she’s not here Rogers, you took her with you! She’s not on my side, dammit, she’s in mother frickin' Wakanda...”

“If she’s Steve’s comrade, why is he certain she’s sending him a vision?”

“Because she’s done it before, back when she wanted to murder all the Avengers just for living. And apparently, she had him seeing you, which he didn’t bother to _tell_ anybody, you goddamn self-sacrificing asshole! If you had told me, I would have eased you into Peggy being here, I wouldn’t have just thrown this at you, Jesus, Rogers!”

Peggy straightened. “This woman used me to hurt Steve?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, that is _not_ the thing to—-"

“Peggy’s dead, Tony.”

Peggy felt the world drop out from under her, heart shattering at the grief in Steve’s voice. She’d known, of course she’d known the math, the statistics. She wasn’t an idiot. But to hear it confirmed....to hear Steve sound so utterly anguished while confirming it...

She wondered how she’d died.

Tony closed his eyes. “I know, Steve. I know she died, and that was awful but please. _Please_ believe she is here now, it isn’t a vision, it isn’t a trick.”

Steve dropped his hands, lifted his head. For a moment the silence was deafening, while Steve stared at Tony. What was going through his mind, she wondered, chest tightening to the point of bursting while she studied him. His shoulders had steadied, his face set in the familiar expression that meant he was about to face the situation in front of him head on, without backing down.

The way he always did.

But there was a weariness about him now that hadn’t been there before. As if he’d carried the weight of the world for so long he’d forgotten what it was to feel light. The edginess of his Captain America uniform reflected it; gone were the bright colors, the flashy red and blue. Now he was in navy, the star ripped out. His naiveness had been ripped from him, and God, what sorts of things had he been through to get to this point? Being frozen in the ice, and mind games, and aliens, and something else, something no one would tell her, that long story Tony kept alluding to...It killed her to realize that his experiences might have hardened him, just a little.

And then his eyes slid to Peggy.

The force of his gaze slammed into her, the way it had all those years ago at Camp Lehigh and he was a 90 pound asthmatic struggling to convince everyone he deserved to be there. Those eyes had always been her favorite thing about him, endless, arresting blue, and suddenly time stopped and the world dropped away because those eyes were the exact same. Perhaps he’d seen more than he ever should have, perhaps he’d dealt with more than anyone could have possibly imagined, but the blazing determination in them was the same, and Peggy drowned in them, those fierce, bright eyes, connecting her to the man who had held her heart since the moment she met him.

“Peggy?” It was said cautiously, hopefully, and maybe he wasn’t as naive as before, but nothing could kill Steve Rogers’s ability to believe in something.

God, she’d missed him. “Hello, Captain.”

His eyes widened, and he stood, an an emotion she couldn’t place—-hope, confusion, and something more raw, something infinitely more intense all rolled into one—rippling across his face. _“How?”_

Tony sighed, standing as well. “Somehow, Dad invented a goddamn time machine, and she’s here now, from 1947.”

Steve tilted his head. “Time travel?”

“Come on, it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve seen,” Tony joked, and Peggy’s heart lifted when Steve sent him a small smile.

“No, it isn’t,” Steve agreed. Shifting, he moved away from Tony, facing Peggy fully for the first time.

The smile became full-blown, that slightly shy, yet somehow heart-breaking showstopper that Peggy knew full well made several USO girls sigh into their pillows at night. A shiver ran down her back at his full concentration being directed at her. At the yearning and joy in his eyes.

“Peggy,” he breathed.

“Steve.” Her voice practically shook, and briefly Peggy considered squaring her shoulders, enacting the British Stiff Upper Lip and keeping her distance like a good little Agent. Just as she had when he returned after rescuing the 107th division.

Steve’s eyes sparkled, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

The hell with it.

Stepping forward, she indulged herself in a way she never truly would have before. Reaching her arm up, she gently laid her hand on his cheek, running her thumb softly over his cheekbone. The beard was soft, which surprised her, then made her flush as she realized quite how much she liked it. Scooting closer, she cradled his face in her hand, and held him close.

Steve moved, lowering his forehead to hers, wrapping her in those big, warm arms. Peggy held back the sob wanting to rip from her throat—-yes, she was emotional, yes, she’d dreamt of this, this exact moments for years, and yes her emotions had been yanked all over hell and back the last 24 hours but Peggy would be damned if she succumbed to the tears, to the urge to lay her head on that large chest and weep because she already knew she’d have to give it up.

It didn’t matter. She’d love Steve, she’d long for him, she’d dream of him for however long she lived. It was already a done deal, already a part of her coding that she had accepted the moment he went into the ice. He was tied into the very essence of her, her Steve, and despite the heartache that she knew laid ahead she wouldn’t change it.

Nothing would make her move away from the feel of his forehead resting on hers, the feel of being wrapped in his arms. The world could go up in a fiery inferno around them, and Peggy would watch it burn, would not move a muscle until embers scorched the earth.

He was here, and he was safe, and nothing else, absolutely nothing else, in the world mattered at all.

Vaguely she heard footsteps, and a soft voice murmuring not to disturb them while Tony left the room.

Steve nuzzled his nose to hers, whispering her name. Small thrills danced through her as his breath connected with hers, as she breathed him in for the first time in ages, every inch of her positively alive and aware of him.

“You’re late,” she informed him, closing her eyes, pressing into him further.

Huffing out a laugh, Steve pressed a tender kiss to the side of her mouth, just tantalizingly out of reach.

“I couldn’t call my ride,” Steve said, and that did it. Peggy grabbed the collar of his uniform, yanked him forward, and crashed her lips to his.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some slightly spoiler-y discussions for Season 1 of Agent Carter this chapter. Nothing too major, just touches on how Peggy knew other Red Room operatives

The last time she’d kissed Steve, she’d been exhilarated, anxious to get her hands on him and wish him a sort of good luck before he bounded onto the Valkyrie to save the day.

She’d been so brash, so certain he’d return. As she’d sat in that car with Colonel Phillips, it had been pure arrogance and glee rushing through her as she’d yanked Steve her way, and fused her mouth to his.

Kissing Steve now was entirely different.

Desperation had her clutching onto him, curling her fingers into his uniform, her other hand flying up to card through his hair. Steve’s mouth opened—-a soft moan escaping him as he took the kiss deeper, licking his way inside her mouth, his nose still softly nuzzling hers while he did so. Rising onto her toes, Peggy ran her hand through his hair, marveling at the length of it, at the way he fit against her, at how his arms kept her from simply sinking into a puddle on the floor.

“You’ve broken regulation, soldier,” she teased, her teeth sneaking up to nip his lower lip, loving the feel of his beard on her skin. Steve groaned, wrapping his arms around her tighter, sweeping her off her toes. “Facial hair is not accepted.”

“What can I say? I lost my razor,” he whispered back, his mouth grazing her ear.

Heat flashed through Peggy, a gasp tearing out of her. Steve’s hands shifted, one hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, while he ran a line of tender kisses on her neck. Her world tunneled to the feel of his mouth on her, the scent of him engulfing her, and how was this real, how was it possible? She’d always fought for what she wanted, every bit of the way, with teeth and nails and words that could lash and scorn in an instant. And yet she’d been given this gift, somehow, this moment to breathe Steven Rogers in and make him hers and there was no bloody way on earth she was letting him slip through her fingers.

“Peggy.” The word was said disbelievingly. Apparently she wasn’t the only one having a hard time believing such a gift had been so easily granted. “Is this truly real?”

“If it’s a dream, Captain, we’re sharing the same one,” she answered, bringing his face back to hers and lightly kissing his mouth. “And I shan’t be waking anytime soon.”

Chuckling, Steve kissed the corners of her mouth delicately. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Peggy ran her hand back down to lightly trail her fingers over the side of his face, holding him close once again. Closing his eyes, Steve put his hand on top of hers, then leaned into her touch.

Love simply swamped her. How she wished she’d had the chance to embrace him like this before, to tell him, before the Valkyrie had gone down and she had lost him to the cold and ice.

“Darling,” she murmured. “Steve.”

His mouth slid down to hers again, and this time she was gently wrapped back in his arms, the desperation giving way to a tenderness that softened her own touches, made Peggy sigh into his kiss.

The blare of an alarm had them leaping apart.

“What the devil is that?” Peggy asked, heart thundering as the alarm wailed and a red light flashed through the room.

“FRIDAY? What’s happening? Is it a call for the Avengers?” Steve asked.

“Negative, Captain. Secretary Ross is on his way. You need to get Agent Carter and yourself to Boss’s wing, immediately.”

“Whatever for? Who is—-“ Peggy began, but the AI cut her off.

“Boss has a panic room that will keep you hidden while Ross is here. If he finds the Captain, he’ll be executed.”

“Executed?” Peggy demanded as Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs. “Steve, what the blazes have you gotten into? _Executed?!_ ”

“Ross isn’t my biggest fan,” Steve muttered. "And that's probably a slight exaggeration."

“What did you do?!” She saw flashes of art, holograms everywhere, and a large piano while they entered a new wing of the Compound, but didn’t get a chance to focus. They ran so quickly Peggy was grateful she’d leaned to run in heels ages ago, she never would have kept up with Steve otherwise.

“I didn’t sign his Accords and made him look foolish. Apparently, he holds a grudge. Who knew?”

“To the left, Captain,” FRIDAY said, and the wall slid down and disappeared into the floor. Peggy took a moment to think of Howard—Stark men and their hidden rooms—then she and Steve dashed inside to find themselves in a large cemented room with boxes of food, water, and flashlights piled everywhere, covering numerous counter tops. At the far end was a couch and a few sitting chairs and a large bookcase.

A blonde woman sat on the sofa, eating an apple.

Her hand lowered when Steve and Peggy barged into the room, and she stood while the wall behind them slid back into place, sealing them into the room.

“Cap,” the woman said lightly, but her eyes were all for Peggy. With a start Peggy realized this was the Black Widow from the files Coulson had given her, her vibrant red hair dyed blonde.

“Nat. What are you doing here?” Steve asked. He hadn’t let go of Peggy’s hand, and the warmth of it helped to calm Peggy’s racing heart rate. Whatever was occurring, she and Steve would handle it together.

The Black Widow threw her apple in the trash. “Was going to ask you the same question. But it looks like I have an answer. Agent Carter,” she inclined her head to Peggy. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“We’ve never met?” Peggy asked.

Natasha’s smile was thin. “Not officially.” Her eyes move back to Steve. “Ross followed you.”

“I don’t know how. I didn’t leave a trail,” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Should we be leaving? Maybe it’s not smart to stay here.”

“Tony built this room for Pepper.” Romanoff popped herself onto the small counter lining the wall, continuing to study Steve and Peggy. “In case the worst happens, and the Compound falls. This room is protected from everything Tony could possibly think of as a threat. Which is a hell of a lot. Ross will never know we’re here if we stay put.”

“So we sit around and wait?” Peggy asked.

Romanoff lifted an eyebrow. “Not necessarily.” She held up a deck of cards that Peggy could honestly say she had no clue where they came from. “Anyone wanna play Poker?”

 

 

 

 

Hours later, after both winning and losing at Poker and demanding to be filled in on this General Ross, Peggy leaned against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her. Next to her, Steve dozed quietly, his own legs stretched out and his hands folded in his lap. Peggy yearned to reach over and lean her head on his shoulder, relaxing her own eyes for a bit.

But she kept her gaze steady on the woman across from her.

Romanoff had curled up with a book after the poker game, not saying much. As if she knew Steve had needed to sleep, and he wouldn’t relax if she didn’t ignore him. _How well did they know each other?_ Peggy wondered, and then immediately banished any hint of jealousy. It had been 70 years, if Steve had been with other women it was positively none of her business.

Besides. They didn’t give the air of lovers. And she had the feeling Stark would have warned her of it, if they were. But she couldn’t look away from the Black Widow.

Eventually, the other woman lowered her book and commented on it. “I make you nervous.”

Was she that easy to read? Peggy knew she had a better control on her emotions than that, but Romanoff was apparently her Achilles heel.

“I apologize,” Peggy said briskly. “It’s not my intent to be rude, or cause unease. But you remind me very strongly of someone that I used to know. It’s hard to get past the comparison.”

Setting aside the book, Romanoff curled her legs in, so she was sitting with her legs crossed, and propped a hand on her chin. “You’re familiar with female operatives that have a past similar to mine.”

“Yes.” Peggy once again thought of Dottie Underwood. “She nearly killed me several times. We worked together once, but I never fully trusted her. It turned out to be a wise idea.” And on that note, Peggy had another thought run through her mind. “You never did answer Steve when he asked what you were doing here. Are you on the lam, as he is? Or are you officially an Avenger again? The situation is unclear.”

“Tony called me in. I’ve been helping him on and off regarding the Accords. So I’m not technically a true Avenger anymore, but I can sneak around easier than Cap can and help out every once in a while. Ross thinks I’m a traitor, which is why Stark shoved me in here.”

“It seems difficult to tell where your loyalties lie,” Peggy said. It was probably rude, but it was the truth. Had she truly not chosen a side in whatever argument had occurred between Steve and Tony? Or was she playing them both?

Natasha’s grin was quick and brittle. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” she said. “I wouldn’t trust me. There’s not a lot of people that I do trust. A very select few, actually. So I understand your hesitations.”

“That seems a lonely way to live,” Peggy commented.

Natasha reared back, blinking. Then her lips curved in a true grin, and Peggy found herself thinking that the Black Widow seemed young when she smiled.

“It’s a good way not to die, though,” Romanoff said.

“That still your line of thought?” Steve’s voice sleepily asked. “I gotta say, Tash, I thought you’d moved past that.”

“Go back to sleep, Rogers.” There was a fondness in Romanoff’s tone, one Peggy hadn’t expected. It would have made her reconsider the woman, but...Dottie had been able to play emotions easily. Could have you believing she was a naive girl from Iowa wanting to be a ballerina, when she in reality she was one of the most ruthless killers Peggy had ever known.

The fondness could easily be for show.

Romanoff’s eyes flicked back to hers, and she lifted her right eyebrow, just a little, as if she knew Peggy’s train of thought.

“Not tired,” Steve said stubbornly, pushing himself up a little. As he did, his knee bumped Peggy’s, making him turn to face her.

“Hi.” There was such joy and relief in his eyes, radiating out, simply by looking at her. As if he didn’t have a lot of truly good things happen to him often, and he’d had to become used to everything he cared for being yanked away.

She rather knew the feeling.

“Hello, Captain. Happy to discover I’m still here?” she teased.

“I keep thinking it’s a dream,” he said quietly.

“It’s not a dream, Steve.” Her voice was gentle, and she reached over to grab his hand. “I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

“You probably shouldn’t...” Natasha began, but the panic room door slid open, interrupting her before she could finish.

Tony stood on the other side. Peggy lifted her eyebrows at the sight of him; she’d expected him to be impeccably dressed after a meeting with the Secretary of State, with his usual, Devil May Care attitude.

He _was_ dressed in one of his three-piece suits. But the jacket had been thrown off somewhere, and his shirtsleeves had been rolled up his forearms. His hair was styled, and a pair of sunshades once again perched on his nose, but that was where the impeccable Stark look ended.

‘Slumping’ was the best word to describe how he leaned into the doorframe, as if it weren’t there to hold him up, he’d sink to the floor. Even more circles lined his eyes than that morning, and his skin held a sallow pallor to it that had Peggy blinking in alarm. Sweat trickled down his forehead and when he grinned at the three of them, it was clearly forced, like he was in pain and trying to hide it.

“Stark.” Natasha was up and out the door in moments, stopping in front of Tony, and studying him over. “Are you alright?”

“Always,” he quipped, straightening. He didn’t say anything else while Peggy and Steve got to their feet, but shifted out of the way so everyone could leave the panic room. 

“Mr. Stark, are quite sure you’re not ill?” Peggy asked. The color of his skin was not normal. Coulson had mentioned numerous diseases had been eradicated, but perhaps Tony had picked something up?

“Me? Nah. I always look and feel like shit after going a few rounds with Ross,” Tony stated.

A quick glance at her companions proved that Natasha and Steve didn’t believe that lie, either.

“Tony...” Steve started, but Tony waved a hand, and headed to the luxurious bar that lined the far wall.

“Leave it, Cap, it’s just a cold. They happen. And we have more important things to discuss, like how Thaddeus Ross knew you were here.”

“I wasn’t followed,” Steve said, as they all trailed behind Tony to the bar. Natasha and Peggy accepted the drinks he handed out.

Steve received no drink. As Stark turned away to mess with something under the cabinet, Peggy could have sworn disappointment flashed across Steve’s face, which didn’t make sense. Steve couldn’t get drunk, Tony likely knew that and was just refraining from handing him a drink to be polite. Why should that upset him?

“You sure about that?” Tony asked, turning around and offering Steve a beer.

There was no reply at first. Which was not normal, Steve always answered questions, although occasionally he was more honest or sneakily sarcastic than most would like. Lowering her own drink, Peggy moved to see what the fuss was and caught Steve staring at the offered beer as if he thought it was a mirage and would disappear any moment.

Oh. This must have been routine, once upon a time. Avengers meeting and discussing issues, or perhaps ending their their day, gathered together with food and drinks in normalcy. Peggy didn’t have to be a genius to realize it had been a long time since Tony Stark had offered Steve Rogers a beer, and understand the importance of the gesture now.

Steve lifted his head, surprise and sadness all over his face. Peggy wasn’t the only one who recognized the importance of the gesture, then.

Tony sighed. “Bygones, Cap. With everything going on, it’s in everyone’s best interests for us to get along,” Tony said, waggling the beer.

When Steve still didn’t take it, continuing to stare a lot Tony in surprise, Stark let out a hiss of frustration. “Trying here, Rogers.”

With a slow nod, Steve accepted the beer. “Thanks, Tony. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said. The tension that had boiled in the room dissolved. Progress, Peggy noticed with pride, as the two men stared at each other. Perhaps this could indeed be resolved before she left. Next to her, Romanoff had a ghost of a smile—or was it a smirk?—-flash across her face as well. It seemed the two of them had something in common, but Peggy still wasn’t rolling out the welcome mat and trusting her anytime soon.

“I’m fairly certain I wasn’t followed,” Steve said, after a pull from his beer. “I don’t know how Ross knew I was here.”

Tony’s lips curled in a snarl. “I’ve got a pretty good guess. There’s a traitor in the Compound.”

Unease crept into the room. For someone to have gotten past Tony and Pepper’s screenings, past FRIDAY’s background check....that was an unnerving adversary.

“How is that possible? I thought everyone was carefully vetted,” Steve said, voicing the question they all thought aloud.

“Snakes find a way to slither through.” Tony glared darkly at his scotch. “The digging to find them is going to take me a while, but I can probably ferret them out by morning. And after I do, and figure out how they got past my security, I’ll sic Coulson on them.”

“What?” Natasha snapped at the same time Steve asked, “Coulson?”

“Ah ha! You two didn’t know either?” Tony’s eyes were lit up with glee. “Agent Not Dead is among the living. He’s in the labs. Let’s go corner him. FRIDAY, make sure you record this, I’ll want to re-watch Tasha skewering him for years.”

“That’s rather juvenile, Mr. Stark,” Peggy said. But she couldn’t hide her small smile. Poor Agent Coulson.

“You betcha,” Tony declared, wobbling a little. When Steve moved to help him, he skidded away, shaking off the dizziness his cold must have caused. “Let’s go.”


	8. Chapter 8

The silence was nearly deafening.

Peggy stood in her room, a robe thrown around her, staring at the door. It wasn’t complete silence—-the Compound was constantly humming with electricity of some sort or the other—-but the lack of voices, of footsteps moving around in the flat above or below her, or the sounds of the city had her senses in overdrive. All she could do was think in the silence. And one thought repeated itself over and over in her mind, refusing to let her seek sleep.

Steve was in the next room.

He would be sleeping, she scolded herself. And he’d needed to sleep, they’d talked long into the evening with Stark and Coulson and Romanoff. She knew that other than the nap he’d caught in the panic room, he’d been awake and traveling since Tony called. That was well over 30 hours ago. She’d seen the sleepiness on his face as he’d told her goodnight, hadn’t she? Which was why she’d only kissed him softly and retired for the evening. He needed sleep. And she did as well, it wasn’t bloody like she had a super solider serum to keep her going. And sleep would help keep her from catching the monstrous cold Tony was suffering from.

She needed to sleep.

How the bloody hell was she supposed to sleep when Steve was a room away?

Damn etiquette, and civility, and all the terrible reasons she was refraining from exiting her room. She’d never been all that fond of them, had hated Miriam Fry’s strict rules about men and women and how they should interact. And she was in the future now. If the interactions between Tony and Pepper meant what she concluded, proprietaries were not quite what they used to be.

Which meant Peggy could easily knock on that door, and...

And she was not a shameless wanton, panting along after a man like a dog. Dear Lord. The man needed sleep, and her libido needed to get a reality check.

“FRIDAY? Where do we stand with finding the traitor in the Compound?” If she wound be unable to sleep, she’d bloody well make herself useful.

“Boss has it narrowed down to four individuals, Agent Carter.”

“Could he use some assistance investigating the remaining four?”

There was a pause. “Boss is currently asleep on his workshop table, Agent Carter. Would you like me to wake him?”

“No, absolutely not.” Stark needed more sleep than any of them. She wondered why Pepper wasn’t trying to get him to sleep in bed like a normal person, then considered the source. She probably realized he’d sleep better getting out his manic energy then if she’d nagged him.

“Do you think he would mind if I took a look at the files, tried to find who their traitor is while he slept?”

A dozen holo images rose from the coffee table at the foot of the bed. “Of course not, Agent Carter. Boss would appreciate your input.”

Fascinated, Peggy moved toward the images. Three men and one woman stared out at her from the holograms, their history and job applicants hovering beneath them.

“This is brilliant,” Peggy murmured. Such technology would have been astounding during the war. She could scarcely imagine the difference it might have made. Better ideas on where the enemy stood, on how to advance on bases. On what Johann Schmit had been up to...

Best not go there. Instead she studied the employees floating in front of her. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Two hours later, Peggy pushed away, rubbing her eyes. “If I’m to continue on, FRIDAY, I believe I’ll need a cup of tea. Do you think there’s any available nearby?”

“Captain Rogers’ kitchen has been stocked with all of your favorites, Agent Carter.”

“Fantastic,” Peggy beamed. Wandering out of the room to the kitchen, Peggy hummed along to the tune FRIDAY played softly for her from the speakers. Finding her favorite tea in the cupboard had her smiling, and preparing the tea kettle quickly.

When a floorboard creaked behind her, Peggy yanked a knife out of the block on the counter and whirled, prepared to defend herself if necessary.

“Just me.” Steve held his hands high, a smile gracing his face. “Please don’t throw that. I remember how well you can aim, and I don’t have my shield this time.”

The laugh slipped out of her before she could control it. Her temper had gotten the better of her back when she’d seen him kissing Lorraine. She probably should have at least made sure the shield was as effective as Howard promised before shooting at Steve. But Howard had been right, in the end. The shield was phenomenal.

And the look on Steve’s face had been worth it. 

“What are you doing skulking around in the middle of the night, Captain?” Peggy asked lightly, putting away the knife.

“Not skulking,” he argued, leaning on the counter. He wore a navy blue t-shirt and black sweats, clearly in comfortable in the attire that now counted as bedclothes. His feet were bare, his hair tousled with sleep. Peggy’s mouth practically watered at the sight of him—-and goodness, it had gotten rather warm in the room. Deliberately, she looked at the tea kettle.

Steve’s voice continued behind her. “I thought I would pop out and see about getting a midnight snack, but I didn’t consider that the kitchen could be such a dangerous territory.”

“One must always practice proper safety etiquette in the kitchen,” Peggy said primly, pouring her tea. “You never know what dangers could be lurking about.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” he said, eyes crinkling.

“Should you ever have such culinary difficulties, I’ve found frying pans to be particularly effective,” Peggy smiled. “Would you like some tea?”

Steve shook his head, shoving away from the counter. “No, but thank you. What are you doing up so late, Agent Carter? Surely the accommodations aren’t that bad?”

“This has to be the most comfortable living quarters I’ve ever been in,” Peggy said honestly. “But I couldn’t sleep. Strange surroundings, lots of mental stimulation. Recipe for restlessness. I’ve been helping FRIDAY find the traitor that’s trying to harm you.”

“Of course you were.” Steve’s smile was soft as he walked closer. “And did you find him?”

“Her,” Peggy corrected. “And yes. She’d been using code through electronic correspondence to contact your Mr. Ross, which I easily cracked. FRIDAY is keeping her under lockdown until morning when it can be decided what to do with her.”

“That’s incredible, Peggy.” He leaned against the counter again, this time right next to her. The smell of shampoo and sunlight flooded her, and Peggy felt the beginnings of her resolve start to weaken. Why did he smell so good at four am? How was that such a possibility? Was it the serum? Surely not, that would be ridiculous.

“Not incredible, Captain, I’m well known for cracking codes.”

“And you did it with technology 70 years more more modern than anything you’ve seen before,” he stated, leaning over to grab an apple from the counter fruit bowl. His forearm brushed against hers as he did and the shock that went through Peggy had heat and need blasting through her.

He leaned back and straightened, somehow scooting just a little closer, leaving only inches between them, The warmth radiating from him made her long to close the gap, and she could feel his breath tickling her neck while he rolled the apple around in his hands.

“That’s incredible,” he said again, and she had no earthly idea what he was referring to. It took a few moments—-she shook her head to clear it because all she could focus on was the intense blue eyes sending thrills through her—-and then she just gave up.

“Steve, if you continue to stand so tantalizingly close and yet so utterly far out of reach, I shall go absolutely mad.”

His answering blink was long and slow. For a moment Peggy was horrified at her own words and boldness, but then she shoved her teacup down and planted her hands on her hips. She’d said it, couldn’t take it back. Might as well see it through.

“Well,” Steve said after a long while, amusement dancing across his face. “We can’t have that.”

“Oh, do shut up, Captain.” The space between them vanished in moments, though whether she was the one to move or if it was Steve, she wasn’t really sure. All Peggy knew was the warmth of his skin, the caress in his touch. His mouth softly lowering to hers, his hands carefully cupping her face, holding her as if she were made of glass. The sigh slid past her lips before she could realize it, and Peggy curled into him, letting her hands roam up his back.

And it was strange, ever so strange, to have him hold her in those casual clothes, something that was probably the norm in this time and place. But to Peggy it was not casual, but intimate, as if they’d been in bed together, as if they spent the night side by side...

The groan that left Steve as she shifted, angling their bodies together, made her bold. She could feel him, muscles and angles and firmness, lining up against her curves, and bloody hell. Vaguely she recalled when she’d known him before the serum, wondered what it would have been like to wrap herself around him then. Knowing Steve, it would have been just as passionate because it was _him_. Steady, and brave and defiant. When Steve gave something, he gave it his all, no matter what anyone else thought.

She wanted it all.

Teasing him with her teeth, she nipped and bit, wanting to make him groan again, desperate to hear his breath shudder. Was completely unashamed when the brush of his hand on her hip, slowly stroking upward, made little whimpers of her own escape.

And then Steve drew back. _Too fast_ , she realized, as the passion was reigned in. It had been ages since they’d seen each other, and they’d done nothing more than that fast, desperate kiss. It was logical to slow down a little, to get the chance to remember each other, to relearn about the other.

Although a certain, heated part of her wanted to say the bloody hell with logic.

But she allowed the kisses to be slower, and sweeter, until they caught their breath and the intensity dimmed. He pulled away, hands running up and down her back, his forehead once again resting on hers. Her lips tingled with the loss of him, but her brain cleared just enough so that she softened her touch, leaving feather-light trails of her fingers along his jaw.

“Peggy.” It was said reverently, her name a whisper of loss and hope at the same time. His face became buried in her neck, and she wished she hadn’t pinned her hair back so she could feel him get lost in her hair, surround him with her scent as he had her. She had the feeling he needed the comfort, the reminder that she was here with him, and he wasn’t alone.

When he shook, her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him in, keeping him close.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured into her neck.

“And I you, darling,” Peggy whispered back. “Steve. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” His face remained pressed gently against her neck, and she softly ran her hand through his hair. “It’s just been a long couple of years.”

With a sigh, he straightened, and moved to pick up the apple he’d dropped on to the counter.

“It must have been horrible for you,” she said while he moved further away, to sit back on the bar stool. “Waking up, in another time.”

It was different, so different than when she had rose to consciousness in Howard’s mansion. She’d known instantly that she didn’t belong, that she needed to go back to the time she was from, to the world she belonged. And thanks to Howard’s contraption, there _would_ be a way for her to go back.

Steve had woken knowing he could never go back.

“It wasn’t easy,” he said quietly, staring at the apple. Then he lifted his head, and shrugged one shoulder. “Of course, the alien invasion two weeks later put things in perspective. Life got a little crazy after that, took my mind off things. Next thing I knew I had been here a few years and things weren’t so strange anymore.”

She let the lie slide. “I imagine that would do the trick.”

His lips twitched but he didn’t smile. How had the evening taken such a bittersweet turn? “I should let you get some sleep.”

“The odds of me sleeping are on the slim slide. But I suppose I ought to try. Dawn will be here before we know it.” She couldn’t help the regret in her tone. Sleeping was wasting time that could be spent with him, dammit. And yet, so much had happened, so much had changed....and they never really had the chance to begin in the first place.

How did they balance it all out? How did they find their center in the middle of this maelstrom they’d been thrown into, yet again?

As if knowing her thoughts, Steve cleared his throat. “There’s a cafeteria downstairs that usually has a variety of options for breakfast everyday. Tony said you hadn’t had a chance to eat there yet. Maybe...we could go down, have breakfast together, if you wanted. Or...” he trailed off, cheeks turning slightly red.

“Or?” She asked.

“I could make something. Here. Just the two of us. If you...if you’d like?”

“Are you asking if I would like you to make me breakfast, Captain?” Again, the casual intimacy of it had shivers rippling along her skin. And as she’d intended, Steve’s blush deepened.

“Ah. Well. I guess?”

She let the happiness curling through her show in her smile. Breakfast, just the two of them? Yes, that would be perfect.

“That sounds lovely. I’ll see you then,” she said, picking up her tea, and moving to her room.

“Goodnight, Agent Carter.”

“Goodnight, Captain,” Peggy replied. And if she let her hips sway a bit more than normal while she walked down the hall, well. Who would blame her?

 

 

 

Their breakfast was rudely interrupted.

She’d just started on the English Breakfast he had prepared, the first delicious breakfast she’d had since leaving Jarvis behind in California, when a soft alarm sounded. It wasn’t nearly as shrill as the warning from the night before, but when it’s incessant ringing didn’t cease, she paused in the story she’d been telling Steve about Howard’s Bad Babies.

Steve didn’t quite hide the flicker of irritation that ran over his face. “FRIDAY, what’s going on?”

“Impromptu Avengers meeting. You’re needed, Cap. Agent Carter as well.”

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to go through with a date, or are we doomed to never get to spend time with each other at all?” Peggy asked. More bitterness leaked out than she’d intended, but it wasn’t terribly surprising.

She wanted one bloody hour to spend on a date with the love of her life, was that too much to ask? Couldn’t the universe pester another couple for the moment?

“After,” Steve promised, reaching for her hand. “I’ll grab a basket, load up the food. We can find a nice spot on the grounds and hide somewhere.”

“Captain Rogers, are you suggesting we go out on a picnic?”

The blush was back, but he kept his head high. “Yes.”

“Fantastic, that sounds delightful,” Peggy grinned. “Let’s hurry this meeting along then, shall we?”

He kept her hand in his while they left his quarters and walked to the conference room FRIDAY instructed them to. Peggy kept her head high, walking briskly, as if it were any other day and she were on her way to the SSR office. She squeezed his hand once, tightly, and then let go and strode into the conference room.

Coulson and Natasha were the first ones in the room she spotted. Romanoff greeted her with a wave of her bagel. Not wanting to bother Fitz or Simmons, who were arguing over a spreadsheet in the corner, Peggy moved to Natasha and Coulson, who sipped from a mug of coffee.

“What seems to be the fuss?” Peggy asked, snatching a cup of tea for herself.

“That’s what I’d like to know. The Boss here won’t tell me,” Natasha said, lifting a brow at Coulson. Steve joined them silently, getting his own cup of coffee and waiting for Coulson’s answer patiently.

“We’ve had some new information come to light,” was all Coulson said. “And If you don’t already have an idea of what’s about to happen, Romanoff, I’ll have to say I’m slightly disappointed in you.”

The Black Widow’s smile was wolffish. “I had to make sure you still have your wits about you, Phil. It’s been a long time.”

“Not that long,” Coulson countered. “And I’m not the boss.”

Natasha snorted as more people entered the room. The first Peggy recognized as Colonel Rhodes, followed by the Vision. Peggy still needed to figure that one out—he was dressed in attire similar to what Mr. Jarvis would have worn, but he looked positively alien with his purple skin and yellow stone in his forehead.

Behind them a tall brunette in a smart green skirt and heels Peggy quite admired walked in.

“Maria Hill,” Steve supplied, following Peggy’s gaze. “Fury’s second in command.”

“And who is Fury?” Peggy queried. But she needn’t have bothered. Moments later, a tall man with an eye patch swept into the room, long leather coat billowing behind him.

It seemed without a doubt that this man was the boss.

He moved to the head of the conference table, leaning forward to place his hands on it and glare at them all. Then he scowled. “Where’s Stark?”

“Have to work on my multi-billion dollar company, Nicky, go ahead and get started without me,” Tony’s voice rang from the speakers in the ceiling. “FRIDAY can fill me in.”

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. “I _told_ you that you were needed here for this...”

“And I told YOU, Mr. Fucking Disappearing Act, that I’d be there when I could. Better get started, Fury, Romanoff is getting twitchy. Watch the butter knives. She’s killed with less.”

Fitz and Simmons blinked and scooted away from Natasha. The Black Widow only smirked.

“FRIDAY, call Ms. Potts, ask her to drag Stark’s ass down here,” Fury growled.

“I’m afraid Boss has engaged Fury Is An Ass Protocol, which limits my ability to follow your directives, Director.”

“Stark!”

“I’ll call Pepper,” Coulson said calmly, reaching for his phone.

Fury muttered something under his breath, then seemed to let it go. Evidently he’d dealt with Tony and his obstinance before.

“Director Carter, it’s good to see you again,” he said, nodding at her.

Would it ever stop being strange meeting people who knew her, that she’d never laid eyes on before? “Likewise, I’m sure, Mr. Fury.”

His grin was sharp. “You don’t know me from Adam, Carter, and I can see the wheels spinning in your head from here. Not that I expected any less. You handed Shield to me shortly before you retired. But I’m pretty sure you never really did trust me.”

“Then why would I have turned my organization over to you?” Peggy countered.

“Cuz I’m the best.” Fury grinned. “Now. You’re probably all wondering the reason I showed up here.”

“Nope, we’re mostly wondering when you’ll leave,” Tony piped in.

Fury rolled his eye.

“Tony,” Steve said, but Peggy saw the way his lips twitched while he tried to hide the laugh.

“Coulson reported that Howard had a purple orb used to make time travel possible,” Fury said, continuing on as if Stark hadn’t mouthed off. “And FitzSimmons have come to the conclusion that without that orb, we might not have a way to send Agent Carter back.”

Peggy straightened, a lump forming in her throat that she had to force words to speak around. “You’re saying I’ll have to stay here?”

There was silence at that statement. Even Stark kept quiet while everyone contemplated what that meant. Peggy’s mind whirled, thoughts spinning in and out so fast the room actually blurred. She might not have to say goodbye to Steve, she might get to _stay_ with him....but what would that do to reality, how would that alter the world she’d stumbled into if she never returned to 1947?

A headache pounded at her temples, and when she looked at Steve—clearly spinning through the same thoughts she was—-her heart ached.

“I can’t stay,” she said quietly. “The consequences of such an act...disastrous couldn’t begin to cover it.”

Steve dropped his head and looked away. Peggy’s heart sliced in two.

“We have to find the orb,” Fury said. “There’s already ripples from Agent Carter being here occurring. We’ve had more Hydra activity in the last two days then we have since 2013. I believe it’s directly related.”

“Hydra!” Peggy sputtered, glancing at Steve. “I thought they were defeated with the Red Skull, how the devil did they survive?”

“It’s a long story,” Steve said wearily, still not looking at her. Peggy was truly beginning to hate that sentence.

“Is there any chance it could be coincidence?” Vision asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Could be, but my gut says it’s not,” Fury answered.

“Have there been other signs Carter’s appearance here is causing a reaction?” Romanoff asked.

Fury’s lips pressed together in a firm line. After a few tense moments, he said, “I believe there’s been one pretty big one.”

“What—-“ Peggy began, but the door flew open before she could say more.

Stark flew in, going directly for Fury, hand jabbed his direction as if he could silence the director with a wag of his finger. His hair and top half of his t-shirt was drenched in sweat, and his skin was so gray Peggy wasn’t sure how he was even standing.

“DON’T,” he hissed, practically shaking as he stood in front of Fury. “Don’t open your mouth, don’t say a word—-!”

Whatever rage had given him the energy to storm to the conference room seemed to vanish from him in an instant. Legs buckling, Tony pitched forward, and it was only due to Fury’s quick reflexes that he didn’t collapse to the floor.

“Tones!” Colonel Rhodes was up, helping to support his friend in moments. “What the hell?! Are you okay?”

Peggy rather agreed with his bafflement. Stark had looked poorly yesterday, but now he seemed on the brink of death. What sorts of plagues were occurring in this time? Hadn’t Stark said medicine had gotten better?

“It’s fine, Rhodey-Bear,” Tony said, pushing away from Fury to lean more on Rhodes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Pepper’s voice whipped through the room. Though Peggy was on the other side of the room she could see the redness of the CEO’s eyes as she stood in the doorway, her chin trembling as she took in her fiancé.

“Tony’s dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey! And Heavy. And more angsty. 
> 
>  
> 
> I've been down with the flu all week, so apologies for such a short update and if there are any horrible typos! (I was supposed to go see Captain Marvel tonight but with the ickies am not able to, and woe is me! I'd been looking forward to it so much!! *cries*)


	9. Chapter 9

“I’m NOT,” Tony protested loudly. “I’m not dying, Pepper, I _told_ you...”

But his voice had dimmed the longer he spoke, and eventually he had to slump down into the chair Colonel Rhodes guided him toward.

“No,” Fury said quietly. “What’s happening to you is worse.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Steve demanded.

While Pepper rush over to Tony, Peggy reached forward to brace herself on the conference table. “It’s me,” Peggy said, head swimming. “This is because of me.”

“Of course it’s not,” Tony scoffed. It would have been convincing if he hadn’t sounded so weak while saying it. Pepper rubbed circles on his back and bit her lower lip. “Not dying, Pep.” He protested, turning around to catch her hand. “Promised not to do that anymore.”

“I know, Tony,” Pepper said, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Rhodes asked. “What’s Agent Carter have to do with Tones being so sick?”

“He’s not sick,” Simmons said, moving to the front of the room. “He’s...well, his cells are rapidly attacking one another and deteriorating, which in turn is creating some rather remarkable appr—-“

“What the hell does that mean?” Rhodes interrupted.

“It means that because Agent Carter appeared and altered the timeline, Stark is deteriorating as if he’s never been born,” Coulson said.

“What, like _Back to the Future_?” Rhodey asked.

“I want a DeLorean,” Tony croaked.

“No,” Pepper and Fury said.

“Oh, come on! If we’re gonna see some serious shit, I want the car to go with it.”

“Someone please explain how Carter’s presence is causing this,” Natasha demanded.

“It’s because of the night I left,” Peggy said. “Howard had just gotten engaged, was going to introduce me to Maria. But if I disappeared...”

“Dad would have put all his focus on getting you back,” Tony said. “He wouldn’t have been able to handle losing someone else. Not again.”

Steve shifted, folding his arms and not looking at Tony. Peggy resisted the urge to reach for him. Howard’s obsession with finding Steve could not have been easy for Stark growing up. No wonder the two men had issues discussing their thoughts.

“So instead of marrying Maria and eventually having Tony, Howard became obsessed with finding Peggy. Ergo, Tony Stark will never be born,” Fury said.

“I don’t understand. How is Tony deteriorating, but nothing else significant is occurring? Surely if Peggy Carter vanished in 1947, other effects would be happening? Didn’t she found Shield?” Rhodes asked.

A twitch of movement fluttered in the back, and then Agent Fitz moved to the front of the room to stand near Simmons. “We think the reason is because Howard must have immediately resolved to get Peggy back the moment he realized what happened,” Fitz said. “He likely began ignoring his fiancée instantly, making their relationship fragile. In doing so, he already started a chain of reactions leading Maria to call off the engagement, thus leading to Mr. Stark never being born. He’s got about a week before it becomes too much for him to handle. And more significant repercussions will follow the longer Agent Carter is here.”

“They already feel pretty significant, Baby Agent,” Tony muttered. He looked absolutely miserable, and Peggy stepped forward, laying a hand gently on his arm.

“Mr. Stark, I’m truly sorry for the pain I’ve caused. However the situation can be rectified, please know I will stop at nothing to do so.”

Tony waved a hand. “This isn’t your fault. Just Dad finding a way to school me once again, after all these years. Who else could have invented time travel?”

Peggy let him change the subject. His current pain and misery _were_ her fault, but she’d be damned if she just stood by and wrung her hands while someone else fixed it.

“What can I do to solve the problem? Is there a library where we can gather research on the orb?”

“I’ve got a few leads on the orb,” Fury said. “Which leads us to our next problem.”

“Because things had been too simple so far,” Steve said dryly. Peggy lifted an eyebrow at the sarcasm, but Tony snorted in good humor.

Fury ignored them. “Agent Coulson has tracked the orb to a Hydra base in Paris. We’ll need a team to go after it, while another team distracts General Ross. He seems to be under the impression that the Avengers are harboring Captain America.”

“Wonder why he would think that,” Rhodey muttered, glancing at Steve.

The Captain sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. “I can—-“

“Anybody see Cap here?” Coulson interrupted. No one answered, and Coulson shrugged. “Gee, Fury, I guess General Ross is wrong. There’s no Captain America here.”

“Ha, ha. Romanoff, you and Carter are going after the orb. Hydra knows your faces well, so get some of the fancy face-altering masks you’ve used so handily in the past. Coulson, Rhodes, and Maria should be able to keep Ross occupied.”

“What about me? I’m just supposed to sit here?” Tony grumbled.

“Yes,” Pepper said firmly.

“Pep!”

“You can help Vision and FitzSimmons work on the machine to use the orb with,” Fury said before Tony could protest again. “Don’t argue, Stark, you know Pepper’s not letting you leave this Compound.”

Stark huffed, but did in fact stay silent. A pang of guilt stabbed through Peggy. He must have felt horrible to not be arguing.

“And Captain Rogers?” Coulson asked. “Should he stay here with Stark, go after the orb, or assist in throwing off Ross?”

Peggy set her jaw. If Fury thought for one instant Peggy would allow herself to be separated from Steve...

“Rogers is Hydra’s Most Wanted, not even the best face-altering mask will be able to hide that physique. Not to mention it’ll be hard for anyone to be able to keep up with two of the best spies the world has ever known,” Fury scoffed. Peggy’s lips curled, and she braced herself to argue. “But Natasha will be busy, and I’ve heard you learned to pilot, Cap. They could use someone to fly the Quinjet.”

“Then I’ll pilot the jet,” Steve said. “And be backup in case Natasha or Peggy need me.”

“Aw. You know us girls just love it when you give us a chance to show off, Cap,” Romanoff said, batting her eyes at him. Steve rolled his eyes, but Peggy saw the laughter in them. She pushed it to the side—-Steve and Romanoff’s friendship could be analyzed later—-and shoved her hands on her hips.

“All right, then. We have a plan. When do we leave?”

 

 

 

They stayed until dark, memorizing plans, and answering questions. While they plotted, Simmons dragged Stark to the lab, determined to find a way to slow his symptoms. Peggy watched them go, thrilled when FRIDAY reported that the agent had found something successful hours later, and Stark was resting peacefully.

At least one thing was going right.

Once they finally got in the jet and in the air, Romanoff spent ten minutes explaining to Peggy how the face-altering masks—-truly incredible devices that allowed you to become someone else, even a different voice—-worked, then promptly curled up in the back of the jet and fell asleep. Steve sat at the controls, the world stretched out in front of them an endless darkness. The abyss of it all had her shoulders setting—-she’d never been fond of crossing the ocean, despite her constant travel. She saw Steve’s jaw clench and wondered if the water and darkness beneath them bothered him as well. If it brought back too many memories of saying goodbye over the ice.

But when she walked his way, the tension eased out of him, and he sent her a smile over his shoulder.

“Does the Black Widow always fall asleep instantaneously?” Peggy asked, not wanting to focus on crashed flights and last goodbyes.

“She has the rare ability to fall asleep anywhere,” he said, laughing while Peggy stared at Natasha in disbelief. “She uses it to her advantage, too. Drives everyone crazy.”

“I’m honestly surprised she’s truly sleeping and not pretending,” Peggy said. Dottie would have never slept so casually. Was the Black Widow truly relaxed, or only appearing to be?

“It took a while for us to trust each other,” Steve admitted. “What I didn’t realize when we first met was that she’s always had my back, even if I had no idea she was going out on a limb to do so.”

What did she say to that? It was nice to hear, that someone had been looking out for Steve. But she just couldn’t shake the image of a small girl playing helpless, then stabbing Dum Dum Dugan in the chest when he fell for it.

“We can trust her,” Steve said, as if he knew her thoughts. “I never would have stayed quiet when Fury suggested you work together if we couldn’t.”

“It’s bothersome that my hesitation is that easily read,” Peggy said, scowling.

“It’s probably not, to most people. But I know you, Peggy. And I know you’ve had to consider the darker sides of people, had to be a little less trusting because of it.”

She had once been far more trusting. Far more likely to look past backgrounds and perceived notions of a person, and trust them immediately, as she had with Howard. And Steve.

And yet, here she was in a futuristic aircraft, unable to keep her eyes off the sleeping assassin a few feet away from her. When had she lost her ability to believe in others? Had it fallen into the Atlantic, with Steve and so many of her dreams?

Had it vanished as time went on? There were some she trusted, those she would never doubt. Angie, for one. Mr. Jarvis and Ana, without a doubt. Even Howard to a certain degree. But was that the extent of it? When had she deemed the only person truly reliable, the only one valuable to be trustworthy, was herself?

Peggy sighed, settling into the seat beside Steve. “And you, Captain? Do you still believe the best in everyone, as you once did?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Flipping a few switches, Steve turned the jet to auto-pilot and faced Peggy. “It’s hard to wake up in a brand new world and not be trusting, I guess. Otherwise, I probably would have lost it early on. But the people here, Natasha and Tony, even Fury, in his own way...they were there for me. So were others, and I guess if I hadn’t trusted all of them to help me through it, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I suppose I owe them a great deal, then,” Peggy murmured.

“They did their best.” He smiled. “All anyone can do, really. They believed in me, so I believed back. Things tend to work out that way. I learned that in 1942, when a great gal told me I was more than a dancing monkey.”

She smiled softly at the memory, recalling sitting in the rain, watching Steve draw, misery rolling off him in waves. “It seems she knew a thing or two.”

It was an easy thing, to get lost in his eyes while he smiled and studied her. As if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. It had always been like that. Agent Carter and Captain Rogers against the world. It felt so natural. So right.

“You believed in me,” Steve said quietly. “And that was the one thing I never forgot, the one thing that didn’t change no matter how many years went by. Peggy Carter believed in me. So I planted my feet, did what I thought was right. I tried not to let you down.”

“Steve.” The world blurred a little as her eyes watered. “You could never let me down.”

“I feel like I did, sometimes. I chose to go into the ice. I didn’t think about how it would feel to be left behind. But when I woke up, and everyone else had left me behind?” He looked away, turned back to the cockpit. “I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said firmly. “Losing you was...well, it was one of the worst things to ever happen to me. But I respected the choice you made. Was so proud and awed of you for it. Which is why after the war ended and you were gone, I didn’t give up. That wasn’t the way to honor you. I held my head up, and kept trying to make the world a better place. We all did. I hope we succeeded.”

“I wish I could have been with you,” he said softly.

“Darling.” Peggy moved out of her seat, readjusted to sit near Steve’s lap, to take his hand in hers. “You were.”

 

 

 

“Natasha.”

“Relax, Cap. I got all the cool toys to keep me safe. Be back in a flash.”

“Agent Romanoff,” Peggy snapped. They’d left the Quinjet behind to make their way to a flat of Stark’s in the city, and now stood arguing about their next step in a spacious room with a breathtaking view. “The mission is not for you to go galavanting through the city on your own. I suggest you allow me to go with you on your reconnaissance, and—-“

“Did you hear that? The museum is calling. It’s hoping to get a few fossils back.” Smirking, the Black Widow sauntered to the door.

“Ignore her,” Steve sighed.

And let the woman get away with such asinine behavior? “I’ll not be ignoring her refusal to follow a direct order. Agent Romanoff, if you’d be so kind....”

The doorway was suddenly empty. Peggy gaped at the swinging door, tempted to rub her eyes. She’d been watching her, staring right _at her_ , but the door had opened and she’d vanished before Peggy had blinked.

“How...” Peggy slammed her mouth shut. She would not be impressed. She refused. Instead she spun on her heel, seething. “Bloody incompetent and unprofessional. If I didn’t know any better, Captain, I’d say your Black Widow has severe issues following orders and appreciating protocol.”

Adjusting his hat, Steve then slipped on a pair of thick glasses. Peggy did not dwell on how well they framed his face. “Actually, Natasha’s a stickler for things like order and protocols. Unfortunately, she’s often given side jobs, that no one else ever knows about until the mission is over. She’s likely following a directive Fury issued just for her.”

“That’s unreasonable and likely to end in agents not trusting each other.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Made me crazy, too.”

A cheerful chirp rang through the room, and Steve pulled his phone from his pocket. He took a few seconds to read the message, then turned bright red.

“What? What is it?” Peggy demanded.

“Seems Nat is running her own mission.”

“Oh?” Peggy strode over, peered over Steve’s shoulder. The message was brief, which Peggy appreciated, but personal, which Peggy did not.

_Finally got you the perfect girl, Cap. I’ll stay out of your hair for a few hours doing recon. Don’t worry about the mission for once. Paris is for lovers. Take advantage of it._

“I hardly think Romanoff scurrying off and leaving us alone will stop either of us from being concerned about Stark or the fate of this timeline being in danger,” Peggy said haughtily. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Steve slipped his phone back into his pocket. “We should go check out the warehouse.” 

“On the other hand.” Peggy’s heart thundered in her ears, but she hadn’t let nerves stop her when she enlisted in the SSR, and she wasn’t about to let them stop her now. “Agent Romanoff seems more than capable of scoping out the warehouse on her own. And I’ve heard Paris is quite lovely in the springtime.” 

Steve’s smile was soft and slow. “Then we should go enjoy it. At least for an hour or two, while Natasha collects some info.” 

“Yes. We absolutely should.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers for season 1 of Agent Carter occur during this chapter!
> 
> Also, WOW the love for this little story so far has blown me away! I'm so glad you are all enjoying <3

Despite the late hour, the city was in full swing. Wandering down the narrow sidewalk, Peggy absorbed the sights and sounds of the city, delighting in the music fluttering down from the flats above and the laughter rolling out of restaurants with open windows and doors. The Montparnasse neighborhood was full of lovers and artists, and Steve and Peggy fit right in.

A small patch of guilt had crossed through Peggy’s mind while preparing to go out, but Natasha had not been the only one to play matchmaker. In the bag she had packed, Peggy found a lovely red dress carefully folded on top, with a note from Pepper, instructing her to enjoy an evening in the 21st Century. When the CEO had snuck it in, and how she could have been so thoughtful when she had to be out of her mind with worry for Tony, Peggy didn’t know. But she was touched, all the same. They all knew she and Steve only had a limited amount of time left together. The fact that they were going out of their way to give them that time...

She’d had to blink rapidly to clear her eyes while thinking of it.

So she wore the dress, enjoying how it swished on her hips, the way the snappy heels Pepper had sent her clicked on the sidewalk. Next to her Steve wore the wire-framed glasses, and with his tan pants and sweater, he looked more like a university professor than Captain America. The thought had her grinning at him, wanting to keep this moment in her mind forever.

“Should we search for a late dinner, or skip it and think about going for dessert somewhere?” He asked, pressing a hand to the small of her back while they crossed a crowded street. A shiver danced down her spine at the contact, and she resisted the urge to arch into him like a feline.

“Dessert, most definitely,” Peggy answered.

Finding a little bakery was easy, and soon they sat at a table outside the bakery, enjoying a variety of macaroons. Steve told her about his favorite things in the future, of a friend called Sam Wilson and the woman known as Scarlet Witch. Peggy recounted stories of herself and Angie, and their adventures living in the Stark mansion. Later, as a singer stepped out onto the courtyard across the street from them with a guitar, they were brought a bottle of wine.

Steve recalled the Battle of New York, and told her about Ultron. She filled him in on how she met Mr. Jarvis, her run-ins with Dottie Underwood, and how hard she fought to overcome the stigma of being a woman in the SSR.

And then Steve told her about the Winter Soldier.

Before he even reached the tale of the Civil War, and the part the Winter Solider and the war played in cracking the Avengers in half, her heart bled for Steve. And for Bucky, who had done nothing wrong, only be in the wrong place at the wrong time, to be tortured and brainwashed for Hydra. Sergeant Barnes had not deserved such a horrible fate.

She let a tear fall when Steve told her about how Howard died. And how he’d neglected to tell Tony the truth. How it drove Tony to madness, and tore them apart.

“You have been through more than anyone should ever have to face,” she said hoarsely when he finished the tale, informing her of Bucky choosing to be cryogenically frozen. “However did you bear it?”

“I had help. I don’t think I ever could have gotten through it without them. Natasha and Sam, especially. Tony, Clint and Thor, helped a lot too, when they were around, before...before The Accords. Wanda and Scott.” He paused, picking up his wine glass. “You.”

Her own wine glass was suddenly rather appealing. Picking it up, taking a sip for courage, she asked, “We were able to see each other, then? When you were first unfrozen?”

“I would visit, fill you in on everything going on,” his lips twitched. “You would often tell me to stop being so dramatic.”

A laugh barked out of her. “I’m sure to a ninety-year-old on her deathbed it did seem full of drama.”

“I’m not sure what you were talking about, my life has always been bland and boring,” he stated, earning another laugh from her. Throughout the entire time she’d known him, Steve Rogers had been anything but boring.

“It was the best part of my day,” he said, after a while. “Visiting you.”

“I’m glad.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m so glad, Steve. That I got a chance to speak with you, to learn the truth, before I died. That I got to see you again.”

The grief she’d glimpsed at the Compound was back in his eyes, and he cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine. “Me too. Though you never let me court you like this, and laughed yourself silly when I tried to arrange a fancy dinner. You kept telling me I should try to move on, that you wouldn’t let me turn into a pathetic, old, bachelor.”

“Sometimes the best you can do is start over,” Peggy said quietly.

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, you told me that. Although as someone who had to start over? Easier said than done,” he said, shaking his head. “You were wrong about one thing, though.”

“Oh?” Were her hands shaking a bit as she lowered her glass? Surely not. Peggy Carter did not tremble.

“I didn’t need to move on. I just needed you.” 

The air leaving her lungs made it rather hard to breathe. She sat, awed and humbled, while Steve reached over to hold her hand.

“It was always you, Peggy.”

How could she even reply to that? She should have told him no, should have insisted that he move on, to live his life, as she had apparently done at the age of 90. But selfishly—- so, so selfishly—the words made her heart soar. For he wasn’t the only one to know his mind, and what he wanted.

“Howard kept a vial of your blood.” The words were said before she could think better of it, before she could realize how ridiculous they sounded in light of the statement Steve had just made. And sure enough, his head tilted slightly to the right, as if he were trying to understand what the blazes his blood had to do with loving her, with choosing her through the centuries. But he kept quiet while Peggy tried to rationalize the thoughts in her head, while she tried to put into words the storm of emotions that were assaulting her in her heart.

“He lied to me, tried to tell me it was something else during the Bad Baby fiasco. I figured it out of course, and was so angry with him for keeping that part of you hidden, for using me to get it back for him. He didn’t deserve to have it, that’s what I told myself. No one did. And for a long time, I kept it, hidden away where no one could find it. Because I thought I was protecting you, that I was somehow keeping part of you safe when I had failed so spectacularly in doing so in real life.”

“Peggy...”

“Eventually I turned it over to the SSR.” She ignored his word and kept going. “And when Howard’s name was clear and he got his inventions back, Mr. Jarvis nabbed that little vial, and gave it to me. Said I was the only one who knew what to do with it, the only one that could be trusted with it. I’m sure you know what a vial of your blood in the wrong hands could do. So I took it to the Brooklyn Bridge, and emptied it, and finally whispered my goodbyes.”

Her voice broke then, began to shatter, in the way it hadn’t when she whispered farewell to Steve on the bridge, when she’d spoken to him of dancing during the doomed flight of the Valkyrie.

“I told myself I was moving on. The best thing I could do was start over. You were gone, and I was past it.”

“It’s okay, Peggy. I understand—-“

“I was never past it.” Her admission made him pause, had those blue eyes going wide behind the fake glasses. “I drank bourbon with Dugan, and you were there. I stood my ground, fought for what was right, and you were there. Lived my life, danced, dated, moved across the country. And you were there. Every night, Steve, every single time I closed my eyes. In my dreams, you were there. I saved you, and you were there. So you see, Captain, that my statement was just a way of putting on a brave front. That my goodbye to you was a symbol for moving on, for doing right by your memory, but selfishly I never moved past it. You were always there, Steve. It was always you.”

She forced herself to say the next words. “And yet, the universe will never let it be you.”

Hating that they were truth, and that they couldn’t live in the lie, she took a breath and continued on. “I’ve wished for so many things,” she said, while he closed his eyes, a flash of pain washing over him. Tears were falling down her face, achingly slow, but she made no move to brush them away. “And I’ve been lucky. So incredibly lucky. And there’s nothing I wish more than to be able to give it all up. To give it all up, and risk damaging time, risk destroying half the bloody world, so that I could stay with you. So that we didn’t have to say goodbye yet again.”

He looked down to their hands as the woman across the street began to sing a heart-breakingly slow song in French. “You can’t stay.”

“No,” she whispered, and she loathed the universe then. Despised herself, for being who she was, unable to back down from doing what she thought was right. Not even for him. “I can’t stay.”

“But you don’t have to leave yet, either.” He lifted his head, eyes soft and lips curving. “And I owe you a dance.”

Of course. Of course he did, of course that was where the evening had taken them. It was never going to end any other way.

But was she ready for their dance?

Slowly standing, he held out a hand. Pressing her lips together, Peggy accepted, a million thoughts swirling in her mind. This was it, then. The moment they’d never had, the dance they never enjoyed. They would be able to have it, at least once.

And then it would be promptly forgotten, and she would be gone.

It didn’t stop her from stomping the heartache down. She would take what she could.

The night swept around them as Steve guided her across the street to the courtyard. Floral fragrances from the potted plants hanging on balconies nearby drifted down to tease the air, and the string of twinkling lights crossing over the courtyard illuminated Steve. They provided him with an almost unearthly glow as he softly lifted her hand and twirled her into his arms. The ends of the dress swirled out around her, and Peggy nearly smiled. But the bittersweetness of the moment kept her lips from curving. So she kept her head high, though her eyes burned while she spun.

When he pulled her back in, she was tucked in against him. His left hand went to her lower back, pressing her close, while his right hand held hers. She squeezed his hand lightly back, and moved her left hand to curl up around his neck, so that her fingers could gently twine through the ends of his hair.

They didn’t move, not at first. Instead, Steve titled his head down to rest near hers, just for a moment. Taking a long, shuddering breath, he pressed his face into her hair, and on the next exhale Peggy felt the tension in his shoulders melt away.

They were together, and it was right, no matter that the universe appeared to do its damndest to prove differently.

Lifting her face, she kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and then guided him into the dance.

Steve didn’t take his eyes off her.

There was a time, before he went into the ice, that Peggy had felt like this. When they’d stood in a crowded room, but the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. They’d had eyes for no one but each other, and she felt that same pull, that same intent now. Part of her knew now, as she had then, that if left to their own devices they would be somewhere else, somewhere more intimate, where doors could be locked and the world could be forgotten—-wrapped around each other, just the two of them, never to be pulled apart again.

She’d worn a red dress that night, as well.

Setting her head on Steve’s shoulder, she sighed as she recognized the song that the singer crooned into the night around them.

“J’attendrai,” she murmured. _I Will Wait for You_. A song that had become an anthem for many of the couples she knew during the war. How perfectly fitting. “I’m surprised this song is still known in this decade.”

“Some things don’t fade with time,” Steve said, leading her gently. “Although I remember it being a faster tempo.”

“It’s nice to slow things down every once in a while.”

“Yes.” He lowered his face to hers. “Yes, it is.”

When his lips pressed softly onto hers, her chin trembled. Pushing the sadness away, Peggy relaxed into the kiss, choosing instead to sink into him. To focus on him, to be with him. Her fingertips lightly trailed over his jaw, and Steve shuddered, wrapping his left hand up between her shoulder blades, erasing any distance between them. Coaxing his mouth open further, she ran her hands down his back, caressing, until a small, breathless gasp—almost a whimper—-slid past his lips.

And just like that, the kiss deepened. Tenderness slid into passion—- her body was on fire, her body feverishly hot, finely tuned to the taste and feel of Steve Rogers. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Steve pulled back, rubbing his nose against Peggy’s, but she didn’t accept that, wasn’t about to allow it. Hands curling into his long hair, she angled his head, slotting his lips back to hers, where he belonged, where she needed him, goosebumps rippling across her skin.

Refusing to let her moment to devour him escape, she nipped his bottom lip, making a groan emit from him, and oh god. An impatient snarl of want ripped from her own mouth—She needed this, she needed _him_ —-rather desperately and right bloody now.

“Steve,” she began. There was a rasp in her voice, and Steve’s own breath hitched, hands clutching tightly into her sides, pressing her closer, until she could feel...oh. _Oh_. Nerves along her spine ignited. The shiver that rushed through her at Steve’s obvious desire made her own longing thrum throughout her, pooling in her abdomen. They needed to get back to the flat, immediately. Another full-bodied shiver raced through Peggy, and she was already calculating the fastest route back—-

Steve’s phone rang.

They froze. Even with the scent of him clouding her very being, she knew what that meant. Regret slicing at her, she took a very deliberate step back, giving Steve space to answer his phone and a chance for her racing heartbeat to settle back into the norm.

“Rogers.” His voice was curt, but the edge of desire still there made Peggy close her eyes, thrills coursing down her. _Bloody settle down_ , she firmly told her body. They’d been interrupted again, and now wasn’t the time.

The disappointment was excruciating.

Steve agreed to something and lowered his phone. “Natasha is back. Everything’s ready for us to move on Hydra.”

Bloody typical, with the way their lives went. “We should be getting back, then.”

Her voice held none of the regret she felt, but Steve’s hand reached out, and his fingers gently slid across her jaw. “I know. I wish...”

He trailed off, dropping his hand with a sigh.

Peggy stepped forward, rested her hand on his shoulder, enjoying how his long hair framed his face, how it deepened the intensity to his eyes. When he lowered his head, and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, she bit her tongue to keep the tears threatening to fall from spilling over. It wasn’t the time, nor the place, for such an indulgence.

“Thank you for the dance, Captain.”

His large hand came up, covered hers, connecting them once again. “I still owe you a night at the Stork Club.”

“Perhaps some other time.”

“Yeah,” he said, and his hand dropped away again, and she let it, because they both knew they’d never get that chance.

As the song ended and the singer began a more spirited tune, they turned and left the courtyard behind.


	11. Chapter 11

The blonde wig on her head itched. Refraining from picking at it, Peggy merely adjusted her bangs, listening while Romanoff once again went over the plan. The face that peered back at Peggy from the mirror had a sharper jaw than she normally saw, more wrinkles, and a larger nose. The facial masks Natasha had acquired were effective—and downright unnerving.

“You’ll need to pretend to be Agent Hildebrand when we first arrive—can you do an American accent?” Romanoff demanded.

Peggy dropped her hands. When she next spoke, the hint of England had vanished from her voice. “Yes, and there’s no point in nagging. The plan will work or we’ll improvise.”

“It’ll work,” Romanoff stated.

“You know it’s not gonna be that easy.” Steve leaned on a sofa behind them. He spoke to Natasha, but his eyes were on Peggy. Keeping her own eyes on him in the mirror, Peggy let her lips curl, and added more lipstick.

“Of course not.” Romanoff stepped between them, cutting off Peggy’s view. “Stop staring at Peggy, Steve. We’ve got more important things to focus on than Carter’s fake accent.”

“But she sounds so pretty,” Steve said.

Natasha rolled her eyes. Her own blonde hair was pulled back, and she had brown contacts in. Her face was softer, thanks to her mask, and it made the spy once again seem young.

They were both in black tactical gear, which Romanoff assured her would not look out of place at the warehouse they would be sneaking into. The agents whose identity she had stolen—-the ones they would be masquerading as—-were currently home and regrettably detained, thanks to a certain drug Natasha had slipped them to keep them away. They only had a window of time before they were no longer incapacitated. Natasha and Peggy needed to be long gone with the orb before then.

“I’ll be in the jet,” Steve said, eyes serious. “As soon as you need an extraction, I’ll be there. And if you need me beforehand....”

“Don’t worry so, Captain.” Peggy turned, then moved forward to lightly brush back a lock of hair that had fallen into Steve’s face. “Romanoff and I will be back before you know it.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said. She pressed up to her toes, lightly pressing her lips to his.

Then she turned to Natasha. “Ready?”

“Later, Cap,” Natasha drawled, and moved out of the room. With one last glance at Steve, Peggy followed.

At nearly three am, the city had quieted down significantly. Peggy and Natasha moved easily through the night, making their way to the warehouse in decent time. At the gates Romanoff swiped the key card she had stolen, and waited for the scanner to scan her contacts and confirm her identity. When the gate clicked open and they were allowed inside, the two women entered the warehouse, and made their way to the elevator and offices to the left.

Boxes and crates lined the majority of the section they were in. Peggy lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. If destroying those items weren’t part of Romanoff’s plan, they must not have held items that were too dangerous. Still. Her eyes lingered on them while they stormed through. Hydra, in this century. How utterly vexing. She would do everything she could to destroy as much as possible while she was there.

“See you on the flip side,” Natasha murmured when they reached the wall of offices.

Peggy nodded and accessed the elevator. Then she stepped inside, and waited. Her tactical gear was more smothering than the trousers and bomber jacket she normally wore on missions, but the belt did hold a variety of useful tools that would help should any trouble come her way.

When the elevator doors snicked open, Peggy strode out. Agent Hildebrand, according to Natasha’s report, was known as a bit of a ball buster.

She could work with that.

“Turn to the left. There’s two guards on the door you need,” Romanoff’s voice said through the communicator in her ear. Since it confirmed what they had planned on, Peggy tilted her head in acknowledgment and headed for the two men at the end of the hall.

“Hey.” She came to a stop, folding her arms. Romanoff had been very strict on what to say. Stating “ _hey_ ” and looking bored seemed quite rude to Peggy, but the men only blinked at her.

“I need to get a thing,” Peggy continued, lifting an eyebrow, speaking in her American accent. In her ear she could have sworn she heard Steve huff out a small laugh.

The man to her right gestured to the scanner on the door. “Confirm it.”

She stepped forward, lined her eye up close. The scan was quick, a green light flashing into her eyes, and then a beep sounded and she stepped back. Little green spots dotted her vision.

The silver door in front of her whirred, and then slid open to reveal a small lab.

“You’ve got five minutes,” the other man said.

“Great.” Squaring her shoulders, gripping the briefcase tightly, Peggy walked in.

“The orb should be somewhere inside,” Romanoff said. “I wasn’t able pinpoint where, so you’ll have to hustle. Do you see anything?”

“Mostly items for mad scientists,” Peggy replied, letting the accent drop. Turning in a slow circle, she relayed what she saw to her team. “Several vials of liquid, an odd silvery rope in a tank, a glowing cube that bears far too similar a resemblance to the Tesseract, numerous stones and artifacts...and one glowing orb.”

It was hidden at the far end of the lab, the bright neon glow dimmed due to the many tubes stuck and pried into it. “It looks like they’re trying to find uses for it. I may need assistance figuring out how to unhook it.”

“You’ve got three minutes,” Romanoff warned. “Give me a second, and I’ll try to hack into the cameras to see what you’re looking at.” It only took a few moments, and then Natasha cursed. “Be careful, Carter. If you dislodge it incorrectly the current streaming through it will explode.”

“How do I unhook it, then?” Her eyes roamed around the table, looking for something useful. A strange, wand-like device sat in front of the orb.

“Use that wand to pry the orb free,” Natasha ordered. “Then use the gloves Tony provided to get the orb in the briefcase.”

Right. “Easy enough,” she said, picking up the wand.

“Careful,” Romanoff said.

“I’ve steady hands.” Peggy used the wand to lower one of the hooks down. Quickly working on the other two, she soon freed the orb, then popped open the briefcase and yanked on the gloves.

“Sixty seconds,” Romanoff stated. “You’re doing great.”

“Yes, I am,” she said, carefully nestling the orb into the briefcase. A golden lock clicked around it, securing it, and Peggy slammed the briefcase closed. Then locks automatically clicked, and Peggy rose.

“All right. I’ve secured the orb. Now’s a good time to leave,” she said.

Which of course was when it all went to hell.

“Incoming!” Natasha barked. Seconds later the door flew open, and the two guards rushed in.

“You’re not Hildebrand,” the one on the right accused, aiming a gun at her.

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

The wand was off the counter and chucked at the first man before he could blink. Not wasting any time, Peggy followed it up by whacking him on the head with the briefcase, yanking her elbow back and cracking it into the second man before he could grab her arm.

That didn’t keep him distracted for long. When the second man—a bearded man with a terrible haircut—recovered from the punch, he tried grabbing her. Not having any of that, Peggy evaded his hand, snatched the edges of a stool, hauled it up, and swung it into his ribcage.

This time he stayed down, and she zipped out the door moments before it closed.

An alarm began to screech as she ran back for the elevator.

“Peggy, take the stairs,” Steve, who had been silent so far, stated. “Nat’s having some trouble in the control room, they’re trying to take it back. The elevator will be locked.”

“I’ll meet you at the exit!” Natasha said, before a blast of gunfire erupted in Peggy’s ear.

Throwing open the stairwell door, Peggy charged upwards, gritting her teeth against the shrillness of the alarm. Making decent time, she exploded out onto the main level, only to find herself surrounded.

“Put the briefcase down,” a brunette ordered. The three men with her lifted their guns, aimed directly at her chest.

“I think not,” Peggy said, and stepped to the side.

Romanoff slammed into them.

She moved faster than Peggy could track. One moment the Black Widow was crashing into the brunette, the next she was up and on the shoulders of the first man. With a few fancy flips, the man tumbled to the floor and Natasha pounced on the next man.

“Three more coming up behind you,” Steve said.

Peggy shifted, planted her feet. And slammed her fist into the first assailants face.

He didn’t go down easily, so she ducked his return throw, and grabbed the gun off her belt. Managing to crack the handle into his head, she whirled, aiming at the man behind him. The gun fired, and her shot to his kneecap was true. He went down with a scream of pain.

When another person crashed into Peggy, she dropped the gun, causing it to skitter away. Hissing in outrage at that—how fantastically rude—-she stomped her foot on his instep, and slammed her head back, dropping him.

Natasha fought the third man, but the original brunette had popped back to her feet. Using the items on her utility belt, Peggy snatched a small disc, and threw it as hard as she could. A small shock zipped through the woman, and she dropped to the ground, moaning.

Satisfied, Peggy whirled and turned back to Natasha.

Only to find the Black Widow standing in front of her, a gun aimed at her head.

Peggy froze.

Steve shouted, something Peggy couldn’t understand. Her world had narrowed down to the female operative aiming directly at her—the woman her instincts had been second-guessing this whole time. Why was she aiming at Peggy, what the bloody hell game was she playing?

Trusting her instincts now, Peggy threw herself to the floor.

The gun barked. Squeezing her eyes shut, Peggy waited, and heard the grunt of pain from above her. Then a body crashed to the ground, and another brunette stared at Peggy with lifeless eyes.

“Sorry.” A hand appeared, and Peggy clasped it, letting Natasha pull her to her feet. “She was hiding behind you perfectly. Thanks for getting out the way.”

Fixing the wig that had begun to slip, Peggy nodded. “Yes, well. I would say the thanks should go to you for shooting her.”

Romanoff grinned. “Anytime. Hey, Rogers?” She asked, tapping her ear. “We’re ready for that pickup now.”

“On my way,” Steve replied.

Peggy grabbed the briefcase. No cause for alarm, no reason to be shaky. The mission had been a success. “Shall we crack on, then?”

 

 

 

The ride back was silent.

Steve flew while Romanoff stood in the back of the jet and ordered a team to clean up the mess they’d left at the warehouse—-and to confiscate any other dangerous items Hydra might have been experimenting with. Removing her wig, Peggy kept her eyes on the horizon, occasionally flicking her gaze over to take in the set of Steve’s jaw. Now that they had the orb, the reality of Peggy going back filled the Quinjet with a heady sort of silent. When Romanoff finished relaying orders, she sat silently next to Peggy, alternating between frowning at Peggy and studying Steve.

When she eventually opened her mouth to speak, Peggy braced herself to reply distantly. But the words that Romanoff uttered had her gaping instead.

“You trusted me during the mission.”

It took a few moments, but Peggy recovered decently enough. “Was I not supposed to, Agent Romanoff?”

Romanoff crossed her legs up, and leaned back into the jet. “We both know you didn’t want to.”

“I’m not particularly fond of brussel sprouts, either, but I eat them should the occasion call for it.”

“Most people would have thought I was aiming at them,” Romanoff said, ignoring her sarcasm. “Yet you hit the floor like you knew there was someone behind you. Did you?”

“No,” Peggy answered honestly.

“Then why did you trust me?”

“Why does one trust the sky is blue?” Peggy countered.

Romanoff only quirked an eyebrow.

“I am many things, Agent Romanoff, but petty and narrow-minded are not some of them. Numerous people have vouched for your abilities on this team. Who am I to disregard them?”

“Yet you still won’t let your guard down.”

“Would you?” Peggy asked. “ _Can_ you, truly, let your own guard down with the past you have to have had? I know of the trainings the girls of the Red Room are forced to go through, am well aware of the drastic measures taken to demand their obedience. My former acquaintance was unable to sleep without cuffing herself to the bed frame due to their terror tactics, and the other operative I encountered nearly felled one of the best warriors I ever knew with a few well-placed tears. Would you trust another Widow should she appear in front of you?”

“No,” Romanoff said, looking directly at her. “I wouldn’t.”

“So you understand my dilemma, then.”

“But you still knew I wasn’t going to kill you.”

“I _hoped_ you weren’t about to kill me,” Peggy corrected. “And hope has seen me through a time or two. And I had every intention of surviving had you turned.”

Natasha turned away, lips twitching a bit, the rest of her impassive face as she looked back to Steve. Peggy swallowed down the misery crawling through her at his tense shoulders—her own muscles were so tight she likely had knots in layers.

“Fury said something similar once.”

Peggy dragged her eyes away from Steve. “Oh?”

“When Barton first brought me to Shield, it took some convincing for them to let me stay. For some reason, no one wanted me on their team.”

“Imagine that,” Peggy said dryly.

Romanoff snorted. “Even Fury was strongly against it, at first. But Barton was stubborn. When he was called to the director’s office, he refused to leave. They were locked in there for hours. When he left he had approval for me to stay.”

“Fury must have believed his story, then,” Peggy said.

Natasha shrugged. “Eventually. Fury told me that he knew I could flip on them any moment, that I could kill them all, if I wanted. But they _hoped_ I wouldn’t, and hope had gotten them through tough calls before. ”

Peggy glanced at her sharply, but Romanoff continued.

“I once asked Clint how he got Fury to change his mind. He said he didn’t. When he went into that office, Coulson was there with someone else. That person was quiet the whole time Barton pleaded my case, and only asked him one question.”

“What was it?” Peggy asked quietly.

“If I slept.”

“I see,” Peggy murmured, beginning to understand.

“Barton asked what the hell kind of a stupid question was that, of course I slept. He told them I was a typical spy—-slept on my side, facing the door, one hand on the gun under my pillow, the other by my knees curled up by my chest—- probably so I could grab a knife off my ankle and fling it at anyone stupid enough to try and sneak up on me. But I slept.”

“And then what happened?”

“Fury was informed that that was his answer. And that if he didn’t let me join Shield and have Barton’s back, he was an idiot.”

Peggy didn’t hold back the smile. “The person seems quite formidable.”

“She should.” Romanoff laid her head against the wall of the jet. “It was you.”

Throat dry, Peggy considered the tale. How she would have responded to Agent Barton’s case, how she would have wondered if Romanoff could be trusted. How that question, that one small question, could have sealed Romanoff’s fate. “Agent Barton must have presented an iron clad case without realizing it. Especially by answering the question about sleep in such a casual manner.”

“Mmhmm.” Natasha said, eyes drooping shut. “It took me five years to get used to sleeping without handcuffing myself to the bed.”

Peggy was silent, remembering how the technique had been used with the Red Room operatives to break them, to keep them loyal. “Someone with the ability to break conditioning such as that must have had an extreme desire to be her own person. To not be owned by anyone.”

“Or a lot of red in their ledger to clear.”

“Or the strength of an incredible person. One who had been placed in terrible circumstances and fought their way out.”

Romanoff’s lips curled. “People might think you’ve gone soft with that statement.”

“Empathy is not a weakness.”

Natasha opened her eyes. “No,” she agreed. “And kindness shouldn’t be scorned. I never got the chance to thank you, before. So thank you, Agent Carter. If it weren’t for you, I never would have become part of Shield. Or an Avenger.”

“I get the feeling the world would be a much more unsafe place if you hadn’t,” Peggy said honestly.

“Thanks,” Natasha said. She was silent again for a moment, and then, “So. Can I ask a question? You don’t have to answer.”

“I think with everything you just revealed to me I can handle one question. What is it?”

The Black Widow quirked an eyebrow, eyes bright. “Did you really shoot Cap when he first got the shield?”

Peggy couldn’t help it—-the laugh bubbled up and echoed throughout the jet.


	12. Chapter 12

The small map on the display indicated they had just made it back over the States when Steve’s voice shook Peggy out of her musings.

“We’ve got trouble.”

Romanoff was up and at his side in moments. Peggy stayed back, watching while the spy read the warnings on the screen and cursed. “That’s a trap.”

“Probably,” Steve agreed.

“Are we gonna fall for it?”

“They’ve got civilians,” Steve replied. Romanoff nodded, and stalked to the rear of the jet, snatching guns and tasers as she did. Scooting around, Peggy glanced at the screen stating a Hydra cell had infiltrated a factory in upstate New York, taking hostages and making noise about human experimentation.

“It’s from Fury,” Steve explained as Peggy sent him a questioning look. “It’s not far from the Compound, but with Tony down and the rest of his team busy, he wants us to look into it on our way back.”

Peggy glanced over the information, read between the lines. “Someone knows you’ve been spotted stateside and wants a chance at taking out Captain America. Does your General Ross work with Hydra?”

“We hadn’t thought so.” Natasha moved back by Peggy, eyes hard. “But he’s desperate to catch Cap. He might have made friends with the enemy to do so.”

“What’s the plan?” Peggy asked, reaching back for her blonde wig. Keeping her identity secret still seemed wise. There was no way she was allowing Steve and Natasha to infiltrate Hydra without her.

“Remember how we got to Red Skull, in the end?” Steve asked.

“So, you’re going to go in guns blazing and cause a distraction while Romanoff and I get the hostages?” Peggy accepted the gun Romanoff held out. “Surely nothing can go wrong with that.”

“I’ll keep them busy so you can get everyone to safety,” Steve said.

“I can do better than that.” It only took her a few moments to stomp to the back locker, and grab the item she’d stashed there before they left the Compound. While Steve switched places with Natasha, allowing Romanoff to take the controls, Peggy walked back to Steve and held out her hands.

“This belongs to you, Captain.”

The shield seemed to hum while she held it out to him. If Peggy were a fanciful person, she’d have thought the object practically vibrated, anxious to get back to its owner. As it was, there was no denying that giving it back to Steve, letting the captain have his symbol, his anchor, was the absolute right thing.

Steve sucked in a slow breath. “Where...?”

“Stark gave it to me, before we left. Said that it was time you got it back, and I would know when you would need it. I’d say that time is now, wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t...Peggy, I’m not that man anymore. I let it go. I don’t...”

“You’re not the man who steps up for his country, who plants his feet against a bully and informs them you can do this all day?” Peggy asked, one brow arching. “Silly of me, I thought you were.”

“So much has happened. I don’t think...”

“You’re not a coward, Steve.” He flinched at her words. But she had called him out once before, in the rain while bemoaning his state as a dancing monkey. If it was what he needed, she’d do the same now. “You’re meant for more than hiding in the shadows, Captain. Are you going to take back the mantle, or am I going to have to do the bloody thing myself?”

His lips curved, eyes softened, just for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

“Don’t tempt me, Captain,” she said lightly. “Should I take up this shield, history shall forever change, for I won’t be giving it back. I’m rather fond of it.”

“Well, if we have to preserve history.” Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand reached out and grabbed edge of the red, white, and blue. Then it was strapped to his arm, his eyes blazing, while his shoulders set and his head lifted. “All right, then. Let’s go get the bad guys.”

“About time,” Romanoff muttered from the pilot seat. “Welcome back, Cap.”

Steve’s glance flickered back to Peggy. “It feels good to be where I belong.”

Peggy didn’t bother to hide her smile.

 

 

 

The motorcycle blared through the dawn, engine bleating into the distance while Steve roared off. Peggy watched it go, gripping her gun, then nodded at Natasha. “Let’s go.”

Moving through the trees, they silently slipped through the forest, heading toward the old factory. It stood silent in the morning light, orange hues washing over the decrepit windows and rusted doors. Natasha shimmied one of the doors open, and they slid inside, weapons up while they searched for signs of life.

“Heat signatures detected ahead,” FRIDAY’s voice said in her ear. Natasha had reached out to the AI from the jet, and she helped them along now, taking in the situation from special glasses Peggy wore on her head, quietly providing them with updates on Steve and the best places to search for hostages. Peggy was certain she was also blocking their actions from whatever cameras were hidden in the ceiling, as no one came out to thwart them.

“How many?” Peggy asked.

“At least ten.”

“Great,” Natasha said dryly, stepping in front of Peggy. “I’ll go in low. You go high, shoot anything threatening.”

Peggy’s arms lifted. “Simple enough.”

Kicking the door open, Natasha swooped down low, arms out in front of her. Peggy followed, her stance just as prepared for someone to lash out at them. But when no one attacked, the women stilled, taking in the room.

The men and women huddled along the walls flinched at their appearance. Forcing her anger at their situation down (far too many of them had injuries, and a dazed look in their eyes Peggy didn’t like) she gently reached out and encouraged them to follow her.

They had made it back down the hall, near the door Natasha had kicked open, when a shrill alarm pierced the air.

Peggy and Natasha froze, but no one arrived to stop their attempt to flee.

“Captain Rogers has successfully captured everyone’s attention,” FRIDAY informed them. Natasha snorted, and held the door open for the hostages to escape, instructing them to run to the police backup FRIDAY had reached out to.

“There are twenty heat signatures in a kitchen up ahead,” the AI informed them as the last person dashed out the door.

“Let’s get them out,” Peggy said.

 

They worked quickly. It only took moments for Natasha to subdue the guards watching the second room of hostages—-with Steve distracting everyone else, the three lone guards were no match for the Black Widow.

Despite the nagging sense that someone should have caught on to them by now, Peggy and Natasha encountered no one else while sneaking the hostages out of the factory. As they helped the last group through the doors, FRIDAY clued Peggy in as to why.

“Captain Rogers has allowed himself to be captured. There is a large group in the second floor conference room overseeing the capture.”

“Guess we should go get him,” Natasha said, making Peggy laugh.

“Agents Coulson and Hill are on their way to the scene. War Machine and Vision are also inbound,” FRIDAY stated. With a cat-eating the canary smile, Romanoff continued on. Following FRIDAY’s directions, they slowly stalked down the halls, listening for anyone approaching.

Reaching a balcony area, brilliantly lit with holographs, they paused. Behind the balcony a large hangar room sprawled below, filled with jets and weapons and ten Hydra agents standing at attention. In the center of them stood Steve, his arms bound with strange metal cuffs.

“Perfect,” a man with gray hair was saying as Natasha and Peggy crept forward. His hands rested on the railing while he stared down at Steve. “Now that we’ve got you, Rogers, we can use your blood and begin testing on the lovely volunteers we have downstairs. Then you’re getting tossed into the deepest depths of the Raft. We’ll keep you there, using your blood over and over, until you finally die. You won’t be seeing the light of day again.”

“You sure about that, Ross?” Steve asked. Ah. This was the man causing so many problems, then. Peggy took the lead, scooting closer to him.

“What are you going to do, Rogers? You can’t break those cuffs.” Ross sneered.

“Actually...” Steve lifted his arms, and snapped the cuffs in two.

“I was told those could contain him!” Ross shouted as the agents swarmed Steve, determined to recapture their prize. It wasn’t long before bodies were soaring through the room, as Steve threw his assailants out of the way.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Natasha said to the agents on the balcony, attempting to rush down and help. “Hands in their air, if you’d like to keep your heads.”

Reluctantly , they did what she said. “Carter, you good here?” Natasha asked, holstering her weapon.

Peggy kept her guns trained on the group, and Ross in the corner of her eye. “Yes.”

“Good. Can’t let Cap have all the fun.” And then she swung over the rail to join the melee below.

“I don’t know who you are,” Ross said to Peggy while she approached him. “But you don’t need to be part of this. Rogers might act like a hero, but he’s a wanted war criminal. If you put the gun down I won’t have you arrested with him.”

The shield zoomed through the room below, knocking down several agents before bulleting back to Steve. He caught it gracefully, then whirled and socked someone trying to shock him with a prod in the jaw.

“I rather think Captain Rogers will get out of this just fine,” Peggy commented.

“You don’t understand. Rogers and Romanoff will be taken in. And a pretty thing such as yourself shouldn’t be caught up in such needless drama.”

“Is that what you think of women?”

“Come on, sweetheart. We both know if you were any good at fighting you’d be helping down below.”

Oh, she was going to enjoy this. “You might find this difficult to believe, General, but I’m in the position I need to be in exactly.”

“Oh?” Ross scoffed, eyebrows going up. Peggy lowered her gun. He wasn’t a terrifying criminal, all things considered. She’d certainly seen much more horrifying villainy with the Red Skull, and Whitney Frost.

But he represented what was truly wrong with the world, where things tended to go sideways the most: an over pompous bully with an ego issue. A man who believed he could do whatever he wished without repercussions.

She moved until they were nearly nose to nose.

“You think you can just come in here and threaten me to back down? To be worried that a fugitive and a couple of women can ruin all I’ve worked on?” Ross sneered.

Peggy planted her feet. “Yes.”

And rearing her fist back, she smashed her fist into his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kinda snuck up one me---it might not fit in as well as the rest, but I REALLY wanted a chapter where Peggy gives Steve the shield and punches the hell out of Ross. I hope you forgive me the indulgence! The rest of the chapters fit a bit more seamlessly :)


	13. Chapter 13

“Oh my God. FRIDAY, play it again.”

“Really, Boss?”

“Don’t sass me, baby girl. Play the footage of Peggy handing Ross his ass, it’s the only thing giving me life right now.”

On the holoscreen in front of them, FRIDAY replayed the footage from Peggy’s glasses. Because she seemed to know her boss well, the video was played in slow motion, and Tony cackled with glee as Ross’s head snapped back, and blood spurted from his nose.

“You are getting far too much entertainment from this, Mr. Stark,” Peggy said. She’d been in his workshop with him since they returned, keeping him company while everyone else dealt with the particulars of the Secretary of State being arrested. Not long after her infamous punch, War Machine and Vision had arrived, and the fight had pretty much ended. Steve vanished, as his status as a fugitive had not been revoked. But she’d seen him send her a wink before sneaking out of the factory, and knew without a doubt he’d be back at the Compound in no time.

Peggy had returned back to the Compound herself, handing the briefcase stowing the orb off to Fitz and Simmons. The rest of the day had passed quickly, with Peggy trying not to wonder how soon a time machine would be created with the orb now in their possession.

A selfish, terrible part of her prayed it wasn’t completed before Steve returned.

“This is _great_ ,” Tony howled as FRIDAY played the footage again. “I’m going to watch this every day before I fall asleep, it’s going to give me the best dreams...”

“Speaking of which,” Peggy stepped forward and waved the screen away.

“Peggy!”

“You need to rest.”

“Oh, come on. I’m fine.” The petulant tone didn’t detract from the circles under his eyes. Simmons had indeed slowed his symptoms, but Tony was barely able to stand for prolonged periods of time, or walk too far by himself.

It made Peggy’s stomach twist with guilt. While she’d been off dancing with Steve and punching Generals, he had been here, suffering. And she was solely to blame.

“Stop that,” Tony grunted, elbowing her.

“Stop what?”

“Feeling guilty. This isn’t your fault.”

“On the contrary, the reason for your misery rests squarely on my shoulders.”

“ _No_ , if guilt belongs to anyone, it belongs to dear old dad. Which really isn’t anything new.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“This is why I didn’t want Fury mentioning it to you,” Tony grumbled, pushing himself up. The shudder that overtook him when he tried to stand had sympathy panging through Peggy. Silently she reached out, steadied him by the arm, and helped him shuffle to the elevator. Neither of them mentioned his strained breathing, or the occasional gasp of pain that slipped out despite his attempts to remain silent.

“There was no reason to keep your condition a secret, Mr. Stark.”

“Jesus, Peggy, call me Tony,” he panted, making into the elevator and leaning against the walls. “And clearly there was. You think I wanted you and Steve to feel guilty about you being here? You think I wanted the two of you to know there was a ticking clock hanging over your heads?”

“Not informing us wouldn’t have made us neglect the obvious. We would have realized my presence was disrupting your reality eventually.”

The doors opened again to Tony and Pepper’s wing, and Peggy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and practically carried him to the back bedroom. His legs seemed to be unable to hold him up properly, and she could feel the strain in his body as he struggled to keep himself upright.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have been aware of a countdown.” He collapsed into his bed, shaking a little, sweat trickling down his forehead. Scowling, he wiped it away. “I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“It’s not as if you had a choice. You look positively dreadful.”

“Lies,” Tony muttered, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his face into a pillow. His color had paled dramatically while they’d walked, and she could see little tremors rippling through him while he tried to pretend they weren’t there.

“Not a lie.” Peggy helped him kick off his shoes, and tucked the comforter around him. With a groan he snuggled in, muttering again. “What was that?” she asked.

“Would rather you got to stay here, instead of having to go.”

The words sliced her heart. She should have known Steve would no be the only one that would feel the loss of her departure, that a man who’d suddenly been given back a small slice of his tiny family wouldn’t have wanted to lose it again, either. Peggy found herself carding her fingers through his hair. It felt familiar, somehow. As if she’d soothed him to sleep before. “That makes two of us that would prefer I have the chance to stay.”

Tony sighed and made a noise like a contented cat. “Yeah, like Rogers wants to be rid of you.”

“Steve and I are both aware of what the next steps that need to occur are. It’s pointless to pretend otherwise.”

“Sucks,” Tony mumbled. “If it was Pepper...I don’t know if I could do it. If I could let her go.”

“You would if you didn’t have any other choice.”

“Nah. M’selfish.”

“No, you’re not,” Peggy said quietly. “If you were selfish you wouldn’t have tried to keep your deterioration a secret.”

“Don’t like people fawning over me.”

“You are ridiculously stubborn, are you aware of that?”

Tony snorted. “It’s been mentioned.”

“Get some sleep. Your fiancée will be back from work soon, and we promised her you’d rest.”

“Pep’s used to me not listening.”

“Well, you should listen to me now.” She continued running her fingers through his fluffy hair. Surprisingly, he stopped arguing and yawned. “Go to sleep, Tony.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then, “M’kay. Night, Aunt Peg.”

Images of a small, dark-haired boy, sleepily saying the words while nestling down in sheets with spacecrafts on them, popped into her mind. Peggy pushed it away—-such things were impossible. And yet, she responded the way she had in the vision. “Good night, dear one.”

 

 

 

 

By the time Peggy returned to Steve’s wing of the Compound, her eyes drooped and her pace was sluggish. The day’s events and time changes had her blearily reaching for the wooden doors, and it took a good several moments for her to realize the wing was quiet.

“FRIDAY, has Captain Rogers returned to the Compound yet?” she asked, kicking off her shoes. The blonde wig and face mask had been tossed aside ages ago, but the boots Romanoff had given her had remained on her feet. She took them off now with relish, tempted to sink into the sofa and not move the rest of the night.

“Yes, Agent Carter. Captain Rogers is currently in the shower.”

The thought of Steve in the shower brought a rather sudden flush to her face, but Peggy shook her head and debated her own shower. Standing under the soothing jets of water that amazingly never turned cold sounded heavenly.

FRIDAY spoke again and stopped her in her tracks. “Agent Carter? A meeting is being called in Conference Room Five.”

“At nine in the bloody evening? What’s going on?” But her heart thundered. They’d finished the machine. No, they couldn’t have. They couldn’t possibly. It was too soon, she needed more time, she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye...

“Agents Fitz and Simmons have a request. It’s important that the whole group is there for it, minus Boss. Ms. Potts is very firm about letting him rest.”

“As she should be,” Peggy said, pressing a hand to her racing heart. “The machine hasn’t been completed?”

“Not yet, Agent Carter.”

“Oh, thank God,” Peggy sighed. The relief was so intense she was a bit light-headed, but she sat down to yank her boots back on anyway. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

She’d pulled on her second boot when Steve’s door opened, and he rushed out. The white shirt and jeans he wore defined muscles Peggy promptly looked away from (staring was quite rude). His hair was wet, framing his face and making his eyes fiercely bright.

“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping into the sitting area.

“I’m not sure,” Peggy admitted, standing. Without even thinking about it, she moved to Steve and he reached a hand out, lacing their fingers.

Staring at her quietly, Steve took a deep breath. “The time machine...it’s not...”

She squeezed his hand. “It’s not completed yet.”

Steve closed his eyes, let out a sharp exhale through his nose. She was pretty certain she heard him whisper, “Oh, thank God,” under his breath.

As it was exactly what she’d thought, she didn’t say anything about it. Couldn’t exactly blame him.

He took another breath and opened his eyes. “All right, then. Okay. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

 

 

 

Fitz stood at the head of the conference table. Standing next to him was Simmons, a folder in her hands. Coulson stood behind them, leaning against the wall. He was silent while Steve and Peggy walked in and sat down in their seats, Peggy choosing to sit between Steve and Colonel Rhodes. Maria Hill sat on his other side, and Vision watched them all quietly on the other side of Hill.

Next to Steve was Natasha, and Pepper calmly held a cup of tea next to her. Fury tapped his fingers impatiently, then gestured to Fitz when everyone was seated.

“Go ahead,” the director said, then leaned back in his chair.

Nervously, Fitz cleared his throat. “When Agent Carter first arrived, she requested a memory suppressant for when she returned to 1947, to make sure she didn’t remember anything that would destroy the fabric of time as we’ve come to know it.”

Peggy sat up straight. Perhaps they gathered everyone to tell them it wasn’t possible. Perhaps, just maybe, she could return back to her own time, but be able to remember...

“We’ve created something that we think will work,” Fitz continued.

Of bloody course they did. Stubbornly ignoring the disappointment crashing through her—what had she expected? Of course they weren’t going to let her destroy their reality, and she truly didn’t want to do so anyway—Peggy nodded briskly. “Well done. I suppose you’ve gathered us to tell us when I should be taking it?”

“Ah. No,” Fitz said, and winced, then turned to Coulson.

“No?” Peggy asked, lifting a brow.

Coulson sighed. “We’ve gathered everyone here because we think that Peggy shouldn’t be the only one to take it.”

Rhodes blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

“We’re very serious, Colonel,” Fury said.

“You want us to suppress our _memories_? Why?” Rhodes demanded.

“The concept of time travel is astronomical,” Fitz began. “The fact that Peggy’s here, that it’s an achievable goal? It’s mind-boggling. And it’s something we shouldn’t know anything about. The disasters and danger we could cause...”

“We won’t be causing any danger,” Steve said. “No one here would use time travel to solve their problems.”

“You sure about that, Cap?” Fury asked evenly. “A mission goes wrong, and we find we don’t win one. What’ll stop someone from calling up Fitz and Simmons, seeing if they can just get a do over?”

“Because that’s not how we do things.”

“It isn’t now,” Maria Hill said. Peggy hated that she sounded so reasonable. “But if time travel’s a possibility? If we become that desperate? It could be.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rhodes said again. “There’s no way. And Tony will never agree to this.”

“Stark is the main one we’re concerned about,” Fury muttered.

“If Tony wanted a time machine, he would have created one by now, and you know he would have succeeded at it,” Pepper snapped. “You can’t ask this of us.”

“We have to,” Simmons said. “It’s not just the past we could alter, it’s the present, and the future...we could do such horrible damage if we all know time travel is a possibility.”

Most of the room glared at her. Rhodes opened his mouth as if to argue again, but Vision leaned forward, and spoke first.

“It’s something we need to consider, Colonel,” Vision said.

Rhodes turned to him. “Man, you’ve got a yellow stone from a Norse God in your head, and you think _time travel_ is problematic?”

“He’s got a point, Viz,” Natasha said. The Vision merely inclined his head, and folded his hands.

“Alien stones aside, this is something we have to think about,” Fury stated.

“So you want us to just forget,” Steve said flatly. “Forget Peggy, forget the orb.”

“Actually...” Simmons trailed off, and this time she was the one who looked to Coulson. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Wishing she had ignored the summons and got into the shower, Peggy pressed a hand to her forehead. The headache simmering at her temples was blinding. “How can it possibly get more complicated?”

“We...” Simmons wrung her hands. “The suppressant we came up with will work. It will keep any memory of the orb, and time travel, and Peggy, at bay. But it...you see, it can only do so much. If you have a metabolism that works ten times faster than that of a normal human...”

Steve rubbed a hand over his face, then dropped that hand to the table. “You’re saying it won’t work on me.”

Stunned silence followed.

“Absolutely not.” Peggy shot out of her chair, chin trembling. Were they _really_ suggesting...did they possibly think they could do such a thing? “You cannot ask that of him.”

Fury sighed. “Agent Carter.”

“You’re saying you want everyone else to forget this ever happened, and let him shoulder this alone? No. It won’t be done, Director.”

“Peggy.” Fury began, but another voice spoke up.

“She’s right.” Natasha stood, coming to stand next to Peggy. “You can’t do that to Steve, Fury.”

“Dammit, Natasha, we don’t have a choice! You ever hear of the butterfly effect? Whole damn world nearly collapses because of a damn _butterfly_. What do you think’s gonna happen when we all know about time travel, and suddenly it starts looking real appealing as an answer? I seem to recall everyone screaming at me when I tried to make weapons off the Tesseract. I’m trying to avoid making that same mistake now.”

“So you alter everyone else, but leave Steve to know the truth alone?” Pepper demanded. 

“If we can trust anyone, we can trust Cap,” Coulson said quietly. “He’ll know if time travel is something that’s actually supposed to be used or not. He won’t abuse it.”

There was a scoff, and then Rhodes folded his arms. “I’m a little insulted you think everyone here would be so careless,” he said.

“If Tony went down in battle tomorrow, Rhodes, are you telling me you wouldn’t even _think_ about it?” Fury demanded. “If you knew there was a way to bring him back, help him live?”

“And Steve’s not gonna do that? No offense,” Rhodey said to Steve.

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “And you’ve got a point. I’m just as likely...”

“Steve.” Maria Hill spoke up, quieting the room with her calm voice. “We all know you’d do the right thing. When Barnes was the Winter Solider and tried to stop you from swapping out the target blades during the Project Insight fiasco, you didn’t let him. You begged him not to make you fight him, but when he refused, you stood your ground, and saved thousands of lives.”

“And nearly died, thanks to Barnes beating the hell out of him right after!” Natasha snapped.

Peggy flinched. The idea of Steve and Bucky fighting each other was devastating. It had to have broken Steve’s heart. “Steve?”

He pinched his brow. “It’s...”

“A long story,” Peggy finished. Always that answer. “Bloody, buggering stories.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “I’m okay, Peggy.”

He was, thank goodness he was, but how long would that last if they did THIS to him? “Yes, for now. But how will you be okay if we go along with Fury’s ridiculous plan? No one can shoulder such secrecy alone, Steve.”

Especially not when it came to the two of them. She couldn’t stand the thought of being the reason for Steve’s pain. Bad enough that she had to leave, that she couldn’t stay. But now they wanted no one to remember her presence except him? Of all people, the man she loved?

Steve had already given so much, already sacrificed everything. Now he was expected to be the only one to bear this burden alone. Would they ever stop asking the impossible of him?

“No one’s agreeing to anything,” Natasha said, deadly soft, when Simmons tried to interject.

“You know we’re right, Romanoff.” Fury stood, aiming his good eye at her. “If it wasn’t Rogers, you wouldn’t be arguing.”

“He doesn’t deserve this.”

“And protecting him isn’t going to clear that red in your ledger.”

“Don’t you dare.” Peggy moved to Fury, shaking in her anger. “Don’t you dare say such things to her. You’ve no idea what she’s gone through.”

Fury’s gaze flicked to Peggy. Then, unbelievably, he backed down. “Actually, I do. I apologize, Natasha. That was a low blow.”

Romanoff said nothing. Only nodded slowly.

“We all need to take an evening to think it over,” Coulson said.

“We’re not going to magically agree to have our memories altered,” Rhodey said.

“We’re not asking that. We’re just asking that you think, _really_ think, about it,” Fitz told him.

“Fine. But God help you when Tony wakes up and hears of this idea.”

“I’m sure we’ll all hear the shouting,” Fury said. “Everyone get some sleep. We’ll discuss it further in the morning.”

There was a few moments of tense silence. Then Pepper rose, and left the room with Rhodes. Hill and Vision followed closely behind.

Natasha waited a few moments, then stalked out. Cursing softly, Coulson hurried after her.

Fury looked to Fitz and Simmons. “Nice work, you two. See you at 0700.”

And then he swept out as well.

“Captain Rogers, we didn’t mean...” Simmons began, but Steve shook his head.

“It’s alright. I understand your position.” But he didn’t look at anyone as he slowly stood.

“Um. Agent Carter, if you wouldn’t mind, we have a few more questions for you?”

“All right,” Peggy said quietly. “I’ll see you soon, Captain?”

“Sure.” Steve locked eyes with her for a moment—long enough for her already tender heart to break a little more. Then he gave the room a sad smile and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve, baby. I'm so sorry. You don't deserve all the pain I'm sending you!!
> 
> But I promise. Things are getting dark but there ARE bright spots ahead!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! If love scenes are not your thing, I'm going to recommend you skip this week's chapter. All you really need to know is: Steve is sad. Peggy cheers him up ;)
> 
> *author blushes fiercely and hits post*

By the time Peggy went back to Steve’s wing her headache was atrocious. FitzSimmons had had numerous questions on what her experience had been like traveling with the orb, and needed more information on the device Howard had created to use with it.

Since she’d only gotten a brief look at it before the bloody thing had snapped her 70 years to the future, her answers were short, and her temper quickly joined them. When she’d tuned out Agent Fitz in the middle of one of his endless explanations, Simmons suggested they call it a night.

Miserable, Peggy stepped out of the conference room, half-hoping Steve would be nearby, waiting for her. It was depressingly empty. Digging her nails into her palms, she pushed away the hurt his absence caused. He hadn’t done it to be rude, that simply wasn’t in his nature. She had no doubt that the reason he hadn’t remained around was because he was hurting, and didn’t want anyone to know.

Not even her.

Well, bollocks to that.

Mind whirling, Peggy hurried to her room, ignoring the headache. A shower would be crucial. She was tired of being in the catsuit—as Natasha called it—and the hot water would help her head. She stopped and snagged a bottle of pain relievers as well, and then got into the shower.

The warmth and steam was indeed heavenly, but Peggy didn’t loiter. Plans were needing to be completed. She washed and stepped out, drying her hair and dressing, then took a deep breath for the next step.

“FRIDAY, Is Captain Rogers still awake?”

“Yes, Agent Carter. The Captain is currently reading. Shall I interrupt him?”

“No,” Peggy said quickly. “Let him rest a bit longer. Although I could certainly use your assistance, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

With FRIDAY’s help, Peggy assembled her plan efficiently. The hour was late, which could be a slight problem, but she was betting they could work through it. Taking the time to make sure everything looked right, she squared her shoulders, then walked to Steve’s door.

She would cheer him up. Damned if she’d let this ridiculous plan of Fury’s ruin the time they had left. Lifting her hand, she knocked briskly. There were a few moments where she held her head high, though concern nagged at her—-she didn’t want Steve upset and worried about what came next. Then the door opened, and Steve smiled down at her.

Peggy’s plan went right out the window.

“Hi. I thought you might have gone to sleep.” He leaned against the doorframe, eyes bright, though still a little defeated. Behind him a lamp was on, casting the room in a warm yellow glow, and a book was turned upside down on the bed, next to his pillow.

Her mind blanked. All her calculations and coordinated efforts tumbled right out, because Steve stood before her in nothing but black sleep pants. They sat low on his hips, revealing smooth skin, and delicious hip bones, and abdominals that made Peggy’s mouth nearly water. The skin below those abs led down to form an enticing V-shape with his hips, and her brain basically melted right out of her ears.

She’d made a rather ridiculous fool out of herself once before while Steve was shirtless, when he had first emerged from the chamber after the serum. She’d actually reached out to _touch_ him, and her fingers longed to reach out and do so again now: to watch her hand trail along that impressive chest, to watch his reaction while she traced her hand lightly along his body, and learnt every inch of him.

His feet were bare again. Why did she find such a thing so enticing? So maddeningly arousing?

“Peggy?”

Dear Lord, he’d asked a question. She fought through the daze and lifted her eyes up. “Yes?”

“What’s all this?” he asked, taking in the scene behind her.

“I thought...you see, I had planned....” What had she planned? Who on earth could possibly remember such mundane details with Steve Rogers smiling sweetly at them? Especially with his hair falling forward to frame his face, to intensify those eyes?

“Peggy?”

Things had gotten ridiculously out of hand. Peggy turned to compose herself for a few moments, and took in the room. Ah. Yes. The plan.

Her intent was to have a lovely evening by candlelight, in an effort to catch up a little more on what they’d missed out on the last 70 years. She’d covered the sitting and kitchen areas in a variety of candles, and there, on the counter, was a small plate of bread next to a silver pot.

Just looking at it made her grin widely as she turned back to Steve. “I thought we could fondue.” 

He barked out a laugh. “I am NEVER going to live that down, am I? You know Howard told _Tony_ about that?”

“And Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy said. “And a few of my associates at the SSR. And...”

Steve groaned, and buried his face in his hands. “Oh come _on_! I had no idea it was only bread and cheese! I was just a guy from Brooklyn!”

“A rather sweet man from Brooklyn,” Peggy said. The memory of Steve awkwardly trying to interact with her in the back of a taxi came to mind. He’d been so scrawny. And yet, that spark between them had been there, even then. He was somehow, in some ways, remarkably the same.

“So you wanted to have a late night snack?” Steve asked, shifting, as if prepared to leave his room. Peggy stepped in front of him, blocking him from the kitchen.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You did?”

“I’ve decided the fondue can wait.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” His voice was amused, laughing. And that just wouldn’t do. Reaching one hand out, she allowed herself to run her fingertips over that flat stomach the way she'd wanted, delighting in the way his muscles twitched underneath her, the way his breath caught on a nearly choked noise while she ran her fingers down.

“I’ve decided to seduce you, Captain.” She let the words sink in—watched his eyes widen, then darken heatedly—-desire pooling low in her belly. 

He blinked, mouth falling open a little in shock. "I....you... _what_?"

“Are you agreeable?”

“Ah. I think I’d have to be dead not to be,” he half-laughed, then inhaled sharply as she rested her hand inches above his waistband. “Peggy.”

When she gently slid her fingertips along the waistline of his pants, he shuddered, just enough to embolden her proceedings, making her hand trail lower still. “Yes?”

" _Peggy_ ,” Steve groaned, legs buckling when she hooked one finger into the waistband. “I ...you don’t have to....”

“You still don’t know a bloody thing about women,” she teased softly, and raised onto her toes to press her lips tantalizingly close to his. “There’s nothing I’d rather do more.”

“Oh, God,” Steve uttered, before her lips shifted, and pressed to his. It was a gentle caress, a simple meeting of lips at first. Peggy hummed against his mouth, her hand still softly stroking his stomach, twirling around his navel. Every so often Steve would emit a small noise, and wasn’t that brilliant, wasn’t that fantastic? Her soft embrace could erase all the unpleasantness he’d suffered, make him forget about that terrible weight on his shoulders for a while. Instead of sadness lingering in his eyes, they were overcome with desire—an intense wanting she was sure reflected on her own face.

Peggy’s hand drifted up, to run lightly up his side, and Steve shivered, just a little. “Peggy,” he said again, kissing the sides of her mouth, moving her just a smidge. His hand brushed against the side of her breast, and well.

She rather ignited.

Gone was the softness, the dreaminess of the kiss. The control Peggy had at the start of the embrace shifted, and when Steve’s hands tangled into her hair, her head was guided gently back, allowing him access to her neck. He took his time nibbling the lines of her throat, kissing the spot where her throat pulsed, slowly, torturously, making his way back to her mouth. And that was just fine, that was brilliant.

When he reached her lips again, he plundered, dragging her under, the kisses still soft but also somehow demanding now, seeking her out. Her mouth opened and Steve’s tongue slid inside, coaxing, and she allowed it, accepted him in. Firm hands lowered down to grip her hips, digging in tightly when she nipped at him, and this time he was the one who lightly brushed his hands over her stomach, making her moan at the contact. And she was still so desperately full of need for him, seeking _more_. All of him, all of her Steve.

But when she tried arching into him further, he pulled away.

“Hang on.” His face buried into her hair, his hands stilled. “Wait.”

“Whatever for?” she asked, carding her own fingers through his hair. She could feel the tremors of lust rippling through him—-whatever the reason for his pause, it was at least not because of a lack of want. “Steve? What is it?”

“I—-we...we can’t. Peggy, you won’t remember.”

The lovely haze of warmth that had drummed through her since Steve opened his door vanished in a snap. The memory suppressant. Time travel. Things she’d managed to banish from her mind, at least for a few moments, came crashing back. Enough to make her unsteady under its blow.

“I’m aware of that, Captain,” she said softly. “And I wish that things could be different. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our time now.”

“Peggy.” The pain in his voice was unbearable, and it was made worse by his stepping away, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I can’t take something from you that you won’t remember giving.”

Of course he would feel that way. He wouldn’t be her captain if he acted differently. Numerous men could take lessons on respecting women from Steve Rogers, in more ways than one. It made her fiercely prideful—-so many men she’d met took her for granted, or disrespected her completely. But never Steve. He had always been the total opposite, listening to Peggy without hesitation.

Still. She had no inclination to let it pause their proceedings.

“I understand what you’re saying, and why you feel cause for concern.” She kept her voice steady, as if they were in the field instead of his bedroom. There would be no room, absolutely none, for doubt. Not for her being with Steve. “But it’s not necessary, Captain.”

That made his head lift, had his focus settling back on her. Needing to feel the connection to him again, she reached out her hand, linked it with his, before she continued.

“You are the love of my life.” His eyes widened, just a little at that. She squeezed his hand and went on. “Do you really think there’s any time, in any way, that I would not leap at the chance to be with you?”

“You won’t remember.”

She thought of Fury’s abysmal plan. “Then you’ll just have to remember for the both of us.”

“But—-“

“This is my choice, Steve.” Heart thundering in her ears, a niggling little worry she hadn't considered crept in, had her facing the situation head on. “Unless...you don’t feel the same?”

“Peggy, you’re all I’ve wanted for over 70 years,” he said honestly, so heartbreakingly sweet, that for a moment she could think of no response. The man had been through hell, and yet he stood before her humbly, lovingly, caring for her in a way that no one else ever would.

Then her brain clicked, and she smiled. “Well, then, darling. Don’t you think it’s time you got what you want?”

He blushed fiercely. “Peggy.”

“Captain.”

“Just Steve tonight.” Thank bloody goodness, he was moving toward her again. “Not Captain America. Just Steve. And Peggy. The way it...”

He didn’t finish the words. Didn’t need to. _The way it could have been._

She fought back the wistfulness, the might have beens. “All right, darling.”

He made a noise of contentment and cradled her in his arms. “You’re sure?”

“Have you ever known me not to know my own mind?”

“That’s absolutely true,” he said, and _about bloody time_ , he was kissing her again. Her body was thrilled that he was back with her again, that his mouth was on hers, and she let herself open to him. Any whisper of what might happen later was banished away by his touch.

Then her feet were swept up from underneath her, and she was settled in his arms.

“Oh.” Wrapping her arms around her neck, she tried not to feel too delighted. She should be indignant, being carted around was beneath her. And yet. She grinned while Steve crosses the room, then slowly lowered her onto the bed.

Breath catching-she was in Steve’s _bed_ , she was finally finally there- she tried not to feel nervous and failed miserably. But that was all right. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her head. Nerves be damned. She was not missing this.

Steve kissed her sweetly, making her head spin, then scooted away. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where—-“ she said, but he only pressed a light peck to the side of her mouth and hurried out. Sternly telling herself not to feel foolish, (dear Lord, her _nerves_. Could one die from anticipation?) she waited, and when he walked back in holding two of the candles, everything inside her melted.

“Steve.”

“Thought I’d use them, since you went to the trouble to set the mood.” He sat them down on the dresser, casting a lovely glow to the room. “You know, with your plans to seduce me and all.”

“Yes, that was the idea.” Bloody brilliant of her, if she did say so herself. “How am I doing so far?” she asked saucily.

His response was to surge forward, joining her on the bed, trapping her lips in his. And that was quite the answer. Participating in the kiss hungrily (his mouth, oh, his mouth. Devouring him would never be enough. The tip of his tongue caressed hers, he caught her bottom lip and sucked and good _God_ that was pleasant), her hand went to his face to push his hair back, giving her room to see his face.

“Steve,” she breathed. Leaning his forehead down, he rested his head on hers, breathing heavily. The intensity of the moment stole her own air—this was real. He was here.

Ignoring the jitters flickering through her, Peggy leaned back, grabbed the hem of her shirt. And pulled it over her head.

If she thought Steve’s pupils were wide and dilated before, it was nothing compared to the depth of them now, as she sat before him in the red, lacy bra she’d found in her dresser. Cool air kissing her skin, she fought the urge to fidget, and held still when Steve lifted a hand to trail his fingertip along her collarbone.

Nothing could have prevented the shudder. It rolled through her, alighting every nerve on fire. She sucked in a breath, chest heaving while he continued to explore her body.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly. Her response vanished from her head as he gave a gentle nudge backward and then she was nestled into the pillows, the scent of his shampoo, his aftershave, his very being surrounding her.

“I’ve imagined this so many times,” he confessed against her lips, and another uncontrollable blast of need erupted through her. “Now that you’re here, with me....it’s more than I could have dreamed.”

His hand drifted lower—- toward the mounds that needed his hands on them, tingled at the thought of perhaps his mouth—then paused, as if still needing permission. If Peggy wasn’t half out of her mind with want she would have appreciated it, but as it was she was feeling very tense between her legs and her body yearned for the weight of him, so instead of politely encouraging him, she snapped, “You are driving me _mad_ , Steve.”

“That was my plan,” he murmured, sneaking his arm behind her back. For a moment she sputtered—what the devil was back there that would garner his interest?—-and then she felt the clasp of her bra give, and the undergarment was delicately pulled away. Cold air brushed her nipples—she felt them instantly harden—but then Steve’s warm, large hands was covering them and _God_.

His hands were magic.

Heat barreled through her as calloused hands brushed her soft skin. The feel of him touching her in a spot so intimate made her light-headed, and immediately determined to never allow him to leave her body again. Traces were made with his fingertips around her nipples, caresses meant to be encouraging and intriguing but instead made her about to combust. The needy, impatient whimper of need that slipped out of her only made him huff out a laugh and she did the only thing she reasonably could.

Twining her arms around his neck, she yanked him to her while those delightful hands nearly brought her to pieces.

She kissed him desperately, greedily. In return he rolled her nipples softly, causing her to break the kiss and emit a small moan.

“Don’t stop,” she ordered, when he pulled away and his hands momentarily left.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he promised, shifting so he could lie on his side next to her. “Having you here like this is the best thing to ever happen to me. Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Darling,” she began, and then snapped her mouth shut because his busy hands were on her again, but this time, they were tenderly stroking down.

The intensity between her legs skyrocketed. When he trailed his hand over her waistband, a replay of the act she’d done to him earlier, she nearly exploded off the bed. The longing that shot straight through her left her breathless, and no doubt Steve was enjoying the turnabout, judging from the smile she felt pressed against her neck.

Then his fingers slipped beneath her undergarments and into the center of her and she thought of nothing else at all.

“Oh,” she gasped while he slid one finger through her slit, the desire she’d felt for him all evening making it simple for him to glide over her. “Oh. Steve.”

Down he stroked, and then back up, and her world was nothing but Steve, and the tremors rippling through her—the twitch of her thigh as he gently stroked her, the clenching of her sex as he started to rub slow circles around the very part of her that screamed for his attention.

His mouth was on hers, and his other hand was slowly pulling her pants and undergarments down, and she squirmed against him, trying to assist him in getting her naked but not wanting him to move his bloody hand away from the spot where it was driving her to endless pleasure. She could feel it building, the throes of it curling low in her belly while he kissed her so fiercely her head swam, but it wasn’t enough. Her muscles clenched, needing something to clamp down on, and her hips rocked up, seeking more, seeking the heat of him.

Still, those circular movements tormented her, leaving her gasping, and then—-

Her head tilted up, her mouth parting on a shuddering gasp as he slipped a finger inside, filling her, his thumb taking over and continuing those gentle, circling strokes.

Quivering, she clenched around him, hips moving again to pulse against his touch, to drive him faster, and the pleasure that had been brewing since the moment he’d taken his hands to her exploded, shattering through her—-and still Steve’s hands were on her, in her, taking her through it while her muscles contracted around him and she rode his hand, needing the contact, needing his closeness until the pleasure consumed her and she was gasping his name.

She came for him for what seemed like an eternity.

Heart galloping in her chest, Peggy drifted back to herself to discover one hand thrown over her head like some dramatic maiden. She snorted at the idea of it. Peggy Carter, fainting damsel.

Though if any danger were to appear at the moment, she’d have quite the time fending them off. Did one’s legs always turn to jelly after intense orgasm? It was surely something she’d never dealt with, but then again, she’d never before been with Steve Rogers. The experience had been well worth the wait, thus far, she had to admit. She was positively wrecked.

And she was not the only one.

Steve panted above her, sweat beading along his hairline, but when he saw she gazed at him he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against hers. The loss of his hand from her body was oddly disappointing, but the kiss he gave her more than made up for it. Once again she was swept up in the feel and scent of him, and heavens, it didn’t take much for him to stir her up again, did it?

“Okay?” he asked, rearing back a little to study her. The hoarseness of his voice was delicious. For all they’d done so far, he’d held himself back, and the evidence of his arousal at her pleasure was clear in the way he held himself—- as if too much movement would be too stimulating and topple him over the edge as fiercely as she had. His hardness was evident in the dark sleep pants, and he shivered every so often, those blazing eyes still darkened with need. Female pride and satisfaction hummed through her—he was on the knife’s edge of want and _she_ was the one to put him there, touching her was the cause for his unraveling. It was marvelous.

“I’m bloody fantastic,” she told him honestly, delighting in the way his face lit up in a laugh.

“Good.” Another kiss, one that was far too sweet and lovely for the things she had in mind. Peggy shifted, angling her lax and pleasured body, and with wickedness rolling through her, changed the nature of the kiss, and rolled on top of him.

Her thighs parted, and she leaned over him, grinning at the way his breath caught, how his eyes widened in surprise.

“You, however,” she purred, rubbing her hands over his chest. “You’ve been rather neglected.” Settling on top of his lap, she took his mouth with hers, claiming him, rocking into him until he let out a strangled cry and bucked his hips up toward her. But she was already moving away, leaving nothing for him to connect with, and the frustrated hiss that erupted from him had her moving faster.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” she stated, reaching for his pants. Quick as a flash, she had them off while he could do no more than breathe heavily, fingers digging into the sheets.

“Peggy,” he groaned, but whatever else he said didn’t register. He was splayed out in front of her, and he was _magnificent_ —-all angles and sculpted perfection and every woman’s dream. Yet as much as she appreciated the length of his body, the dip in his hips, and the hardness of his erection, it was his eyes that undid her. Foggy with lust, brimming with need. For her.

Peggy was back on the bed and straddling him between one thought and the next. Already she was pulsing with need for him again, and her want for him made her slick and warm, so that when she lowered down and slid her sex over his they glided easily together.

Steve shouted and his hips shot up, and oh, the _feel_ of him, sliding against her, so close to where she wanted him, but not there, not nearly close enough yet. Her muscles quivered, desperate to wrap around him, and she moaned, trying to adjust so he could slide into her, she needed him inside....

“Oh, God, you’re gonna kill me,” he rasped. Hands gripping her hips, he lifted her up and away a little. And that wouldn’t do at all. Nipping at his ear, she undulated her hips, rubbing over him.

“Peg. Just—- _hnnnngh_ —-oh, my God you’re ruthless,” he half-laughed, half-moaned. “Just. Peggy. Wait.”

“Whatever for?” she whispered, pressing her breasts to his chest and nibbling along his throat.

“Protection. I—-Jeeesus, Peggy. Protection. We need—-responsible. Oh, Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Lovely way to go, darling,” she murmured, but she did as he asked, and stilled. When he moved out from under her, and stood on unstable legs, she frowned. “Where are you going?”

“One second.” Stumbling a bit, he crashed into the dresser, then rummaged through the drawers. Oh. Protection. That was a rather wise idea, all in all. Getting pregnant and not recalling what happened would not go over well for anyone.

His walk back was just as shaky; if she didn’t know better she’d swear he was drunk. The little silver packet in his hand glinted in the candle light, and when he tried to rip it open, fumbling with it a bit, she held her hand out.

“Allow me?”

He froze. Then, “This is going to end rather quickly if you take over.”

Chuckling, she waited. Passion burning in his eyes, he passed the foil packet over and she ripped it open. It was slightly different than what she knew, but it would suffice. Steve sucked in a long shuddering breath as she scooted toward him, holding it just above the length of him, close enough she could feel nearness radiating from him, but not enough to actually touch.

“Like this?” she murmured, slowly setting it on the tip of him. If her hand accidentally rubbed at his slit first, gathering some of the wetness there, to make it slick and easy while her hand ran down him, it was purely because she wanted to undo him just as completely as he had her.

With a slow moan, Steve gave a full bodied shudder, and closed his eyes. Muscles twitched and jumped beneath her, and she rolled the condom down, marveling in the feel of him, the smoothness and heat.

When he was covered she tilted her head—it seemed rather small and thin, and did it give him the opportunity for any sensation at all? Testing, she ran her hand down him again, this time with the condom on to see the difference, and Steve’s head dropped back, a sharp exhale through his nose huffing over her skin.

“Do you like that, darling?” she asked, but she didn’t get an answer. Instead Steve’s eyes snapped open and he leaned down. Catching the clue, she scooted back until she was once again surrounded by the pillows, lying down in them so Steve could stretch above her.

He covered her completely, arms bracketing each side of her. The rest of the world was blocked out, and there was nothing but Steve above her, and she below him, and with a start Peggy took a slow, unsteady breath of her own. Leaning back, she sank into the pillows, allowing him to take her over. It was so different than what was she was generally used to that she paused a moment. This was allowing him to fully take charge. It was not her normal. She gave the orders and did not care if no one wanted to follow, she bloody well ordered them anyway. Peggy Carter did not yield.

And yet. Here she was. For Steve, she could relinquish control. But just because she trusted him didn’t mean she would disregard herself completely. Tilting her head, she arched an eyebrow in impatience.

And then Steve laughed, and the strangeness of the moment passed, his happiness rolling through her, warming all the places she’d felt confusion.

“You look like a queen,” he said, lowering his head. This time she allowed the soft kiss. Need still thrummed through her blood, but this she understood needed to be slow. It was their time together, and she wouldn’t rush it.

So she drifted her hands down his back, mapping his body, committing each shiver and gasp he made to memory (And no, _no_ do not think about memories now, or time, or loss....now was not the bloody time for such things). Enjoying the way his body covered and slid against hers, she lovingly caressed him. Something in the air changed—before passion and need ruled everything but now it was filled with understanding, and the enormity of what was between them, what had always been between them.

Above her, Steve trembled. It was not the impressive strength of those arms giving out, nor nerves. Peggy was certain that the cause for the tremors was the same as the reason for the shakiness in her own hands as she lifted one to lay it on his cheek. This moment, the one they’d been denied for so long was finally there. The enormity of it, the absolute depth to the change about to occur between them, the one she wanted for _so long_ , lingered in her touch as he turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm.

And then he adjusted a little, shifting over her, lining them up, so that he was nestled perfectly between her, his hardness teasing the entrance of her. She inhaled sharply—- he felt incredible and he wasn’t actually doing the bloody thing yet. 

Locking eyes with him, Peggy canted her hips, locked her legs around his back. He slid into her easily, with only a little resistance, barely any pain, and the feel of him hot and hard and thick stole her breath completely. _Yes_ , her entire body screamed, rising up to meet him, to open for him, to embrace him completely. She clenched around him, loving the gasping moan that slipped from him, and held her hand on his cheek while he entered her to the hilt.

Tremors rippling through him were stronger now, and he dropped his head to her shoulder, still trembling, apparently trying to keep still. They stayed linked that way for a moment, breathless and quivering, and Peggy knew that whatever the hell happened tomorrow, she would do her damnedest to never lose this. The feel of him in her, the way he filled her, how he twitched inside her, pressed into her so deeply her sex clamped and tightened around him---it was something she never, never wanted to lose.

“Darling.” She kissed his hair, his neck, his mouth. “It’s alright. I’m fine, Steve. Move.”

“You sure?” She could feel the strength it took him to remain still, to fight his body’s need to thrust and move. His breathing was hitched, and his voice so hoarse she barely heard him.

Peggy pressed another kiss to his lips. “Darling if you don’t move, I’ll die.”

It didn’t get quite the laugh she’d expected; instead of a loud snigger or bark, his laugh was shaky, fragile, as if he didn’t have the lung capacity to do more.

“We can’t have that,” he managed, and kissed her deeply, the sweat on his chest from his efforts mingling with hers, and she widened her legs, opening herself to him further, drawing him in deeper. A strangled moan ripped from him and he took three seconds to gain composure by resting his forehead on Peggy’s.

And then Steve moved.

“Oh, God,” she said, the sensation of him sliding out and thrusting back in making her pulse around him. 

They moved together, slowly at first, then more quickly as they settled into a rhythm that her body knew, longed for, needed. This was basic, this was elementary, this was so damned right. Digging her fingers into his hip, needing to grind against him, as she arched and let pleasure consume her. Deep, so deep, inside her Steve moved—and she felt every thrust zing through her, craved every spike of pleasure that made her contract around him. He stole her breath and made her want more, the urge to drag him into her and keep him there a living fire that singed her blood.

Faster and faster Peggy moved, instinct taking over, the feel of him driving her to an edge she hadn’t realized she’d been on. He matched her, thrust for thrust, just as desperate, just as mad. Needing more, she craned her head until she could meet his lips; the kiss was sloppy, and desperate, but it was perfect, because it was Steve. Steve above her, and around her, and in her—-he was _in_ her, and he was safe there, where he should be, away from the ice and death and misery that seemed to demand him all the time. At the moment nothing separated them, and she never wanted it to change.

He hooked a hand under her thigh, bringing it up and around his waist further. That was good, that was fantastic, how did he know she needed him right _there_ , at that exact spot? She moaned, closing her eyes at the way his slicked skin glided against hers, at how his own fingers scrabbled at her leg, trying to keep them close despite the sweat that sheened, making them a little slippery. At the change of the angle, his next thrust made stars burst behind her eyes.

It was too much and still somehow not enough. It was everything—- and nothing she could ever regain, ever hope to encounter again. She shook, this time letting the intimacy of it crest over her, until she felt heat rise on her face, over her chest, her breath hitching in broken gasps. Whether it was because pleasure coiled low in her belly or because she knew this was something she would give anything to hold on to, Peggy wasn’t sure.

But as Steve took her mouth in another long, frantic kiss, she wrapped her arms around him, locking them together, and let go. Muscles spasming around him, she arched back, releasing a sound of need, of love, of a promise she knew she couldn’t keep. Then waves of pleasure slammed into her, rippling through her so intensely that she cried Steve’s name.

Her body didn’t stop, instead it continued to thrust around him while the orgasm erupted through her, squeezing around him, tighter and tighter. Sensations kept slamming through her—oh, God, it was perfect and raw and it didn’t stop coming and so she didn’t stop. Clenching him rhythmically, she kept grinding until she felt a stutter of his breath on her throat, heard a moan of his own sneak out. With another few snaps of his own hips, she felt him pulse inside her, heard the bellow of her name, and then Steve was shaking apart above her, weakly groaning into her hair.

He fell bonelessly on top of her. She would have protested, but she could barely blink, let alone form enough thought to speak. As if realizing his weight could crush her, he went to move, but he was still nestled inside her and the movement caused her to contract around him, and he made a noise that she would have called a whimper if she could have ignored the way it made her own body twitch. Instead of teasing him she closed her eyes, fought to control her breath.

She felt a kiss on her forehead—blearily she opened her eyes to see him staring fondly down at her. She wondered what it was that made him seem so fond—there was no doubt she had to look a mess. Her hair was damp with sweat and she could feel it plastered to her neck and sides of her face, and she knew the flush that had overtaken her during the orgasm had yet to fade.

But it was alright, for Steve looked just as exhausted as she felt, but in the most delicious way imaginable. And when he leaned down again, to draw her in for yet another tender kiss, she didn’t care a bit for her debauchery.

“I love you,” he said softly when he pulled back. “Always. Always, Peggy.”

“I know, darling.” She didn’t need the words, the proclamation. Steve had been the one for her from the moment he’d thrown himself onto a grenade, and around the time they’d spoken of dancing in a bar full of song a drink, she knew without a doubt he felt the same. There would be no other for her, not ever in the same way. Steve was part of her heart, part of her soul, and even his death had not diminished or extinguished it.

But she’d be a bloody fool to miss her chance to say her own words, give him his own proclamation. And what better time than when he was still buried inside her, when the two of them were still linked as one in the most intimate of ways possible?

“I love you, too, Steve.”

The grin that crossed his face was brilliant---she'd say it every ten minutes for the rest of her stay to see him lit up like that, to ensure the shadows and sadness were banned from his eyes. 

“That’s nice to hear,” he said smiling. Another sweet kiss, one that had her sigh dreamily when it ended. “We should get some rest.”

They should, yes, they should. But there were still things to attend do. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’ve still got plans for you, Captain.”

He blinked, and she didn’t fight the laugh, or the happiness she felt with the love.

“We still need to fondue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I"m a _little_ embarrassed by how long this got, but really. WE ALL KNOW THEY NEEDED/DESERVED THAT.


	15. Chapter 15

Peggy scooped up more cheese, titled her head thoughtfully. “Favorite thing about the future. And no rubbish answers,” she said, laughing as Steve opened his mouth and frowned, knowing he was likely to say the people or the food.

“Oh, jeez.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? The food.”

She _knew_ it. Peggy snorted and tossed a chunk of bread at him. “Captain, that’s not a real answer at all! That’s completely rubbish!”

The bread bounced off his forehead while he laughed. “No, come on! Hear me out,” he insisted. He’d put the sleep pants back on, and had a white shirt with them. Peggy perched on the bar stool studying him, outrageously tired. But they’d been talking non-stop since finally making it to the fondue, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

Pulling the robe she’d stolen from him tighter around herself (she wore nothing underneath and every so often Steve would glance at her, eyes heated, and she smiled deliciously because she knew _exactly_ what he was thinking), Peggy said, “All right, then. Explain your answer.”

He popped another piece of bread into his mouth and chewed a few moments before responding. “My metabolism, it makes me hungry and need to eat _all the time_ , right? And it was hard, during the war, to find enough food, without taking from anyone else. So, that wasn’t fun. But now? When I lived here, I was never hungry. Even when I’ve been on the run...I can still find something eventually. It's not always the most nutritious option, but still.” He grinned. “And we don’t have to boil everything, which is great. So. That’s probably my favorite thing about the future.”

“Steve.” She’d no idea he had gone hungry so often. She should have known better. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Uncomfortably, Steve shifted. “I didn’t need to be complaining and taking food away from anyone else because I signed up to be a lab rat.”

Well, honestly. Of course that would be his answer. “You still should have said something, Captain. In the future, don’t hide things like that from your comrades.”

“Yes, Agent Carter.” His eyes were full of teasing while he said it. He’d always had a fondness for her lectures.

“Don’t you ‘Agent Carter’ me,” she said, swatting at his arm. Steve chuffed out a laugh and kissed her.

It had just enough heat in it to make her head spin, but she wasn’t about to be distracted. “I mean it,” she said sternly when they broke apart. “You don’t need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time, Steve. You’re not Atlas. And you are not a lab rat.”

Laughter falling away, Steve dropped his head and speared another piece of bread, dipping it into the cheese. “I know that. I do,” he insisted when she scoffed at him. “I know I’m more than just the serum. And that I should let others help me. It’s just...every time I try to step back, to let others in...”

He trailed off, eyes closing for a moment, and the heartache that rolled over his features made her own heart stutter. Why had she said such a foolish, senseless thing? Furious at herself, Peggy leapt from the stool to move towards him. Why had she brought up such an asinine situation? She knew the gut-wrenching reason.

Everyone left him.

Some—-like herself, and Howard, and the Commandos—- he lost because of the ice. Bucky he lost because of the terrible cruelty of Hydra. But even his new team, the ones he had begun to count on in this time...he had lost them as well. The archer who had returned to his family. The evidently real God of Thunder, who had become Steve’s friend but gone back to Asgard. A green rage monster—Dr. Banner---who had disappeared completley.

Tony, who had been unable to process his grief over what the Winter Soldier had done.

They had all left.

“Oh, Steve.” She wrapped him in her arms, holding him tight. Stupid, stupid of her to speak without thinking, to bring his loneliness to the forefront. How much had he suffered alone? Did anyone truly know the depths of the miseries he’d been through? No wonder he was so loyal to the Black Widow. The one he probably assumed would be the first to walk away had been the only one to stay.

“I’m okay, Peggy.” But he allowed her to guide him into the embrace, for her slender arms to encircle his giant shoulders, as if she could take the weight for a little bit. He buried his face into her hair, sighing deeply. And doing so, his whole body relaxed, and his own arms reached up to hold her around the waist.

When he eventually leaned back, eyes red, she kissed him softly—hoping he knew how badly she wished she could be there for him more often—and then offered him a glass of water. While he drank, she tried to think of something---anything--to say, that might put a smile back on his face.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I punched the radio actor playing Captain America in the face?”

Choking on the water, Steve turned bright red and coughed until his lungs cleared. It wasn’t exactly what Peggy had planned, but it did successfully banish the sorrow in his eyes, so she’d count it as a win.

“You punched _who_?” he asked, wiping his hand over his face.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you about the Captain America Adventure Program?”

“Well, yeah, it’s mentioned at the Smithsonian, but—-“

“The Smithsonian?!”

He smiled sheepishly. “There’s a whole exhibit. But I never listened to them. Seemed kinda narcissistic.”

“They were bloody terrible,” she announced. At his chuckle, she insisted, “Truly, they were an abomination, Steve. And they _followed me around_ , I swear I couldn’t go two feet without a radio playing an episode about the adventures of Captain America and Betty Bloody Carver.”

“Betty Carver?” He burst out laughing.

“A whining damsel, always getting herself into a terrible situation and then unable to use her brain and get out. She wasn’t even British,” Peggy muttered, and then Steve was somehow laughing harder, and she should be annoyed at his joy in that damned show, but the light in his eyes made it rather difficult to be irritated.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I attended an event with Howard where the voice actor of Captain America was the special guest. Irritating man, who thought he could charm and demand things of anyone he wanted because he had the gall to pretend to be you. Even Howard was appalled by him.”

“So you decided to punch him?” Steve asked, lips curving.

“Believe me, Captain, he had it coming—- the way he over-acted and exaggerated every word that was supposed to be yours, and then exploited the trials you went through to further his own career, was downright insulting to your legacy. But it wasn’t just that. The idiot tried stealing Howard’s ridiculously overpriced watch and cuff links. Right bloody in front of me. I got them back and broke his nose.”

Steve rubbed a hand over his mouth, clearly trying his best to keep a straight face. But she saw how his shoulders shook and the mouth that was smiling under his hand. “That sounds like the kind of woman Betty Carver should have been,” he said.

“It would have made the show far more entertaining. All the blasted screaming made one’s ears bleed.”

Yawning, he chuckled again. Then, before she could blink, he scooped her in his arms, pressing his face into her neck, giving her a small kiss behind her ear. “Wanna get some sleep?”

Chills tingled down her spine while he nuzzled at her neck. “Sounds lovely.”

Blowing out the candle warming the fondue pot, he stood, keeping her easily snuggled into his chest.

“Is this now going to be my prime method of transportation?” she asked while he carried her to the bedroom.

“Yep,” he said confidently.

She forced her lips into a thin line, but couldn’t hold it—-the smile took over. So she sniffed indignantly instead. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Grinning, he held her with one arm and pulled the covers back with the other. In seconds he had her settled down and was climbing in after her.

“Steve, we’ve left a mess in the kitchen.”

“It’ll keep til morning.”

“How irresponsible, Captain Rogers. Whatever will your admirers think?”

“Only opinion I care about is yours, Peggy,” he said simply, curling around her. No one, absolutely no one else, could have said such a thing to her without sounding ridiculous, without irritating her to no end. But Steve was so completely sincere, so easily honest, that instead of rolling her eyes at the statement, she practically melted.

And she didn’t have to let go of him yet, got the chance to enjoy him for a bit longer. She didn’t delude herself into thinking they would magically get a happy ending, but she did acknowledge that if she had had the opportunity to stay without destroying the damned world, she’d have done so in a heartbeat. For selfish, selfish reasons, but also because she wanted him to know that if given the chance, she’d stay. If it were up to Peggy, Steve would never have to bear the pain of being left again.

Lying with her back to his stomach, his arms wrapped around her, suddenly wasn’t enough. Readjusting, Peggy rolled until she faced him, until she could see those patient blue eyes gazing down at her. Without prompting, Steve rolled onto his back and she snuggled into his chest, resting her hand right over his heart.

Pressing a soft kiss into her hair, she felt his arms squeeze her gently. “Night, Peggy.”

The heartbeat under her hand was the most precious thing in the world. Marveling in it, she curled herself in closer, letting the steadiness of his heart, the way they were entwined together, and that face that he was smiling easily, lull her to sleep.

“Good night, darling.”

 

 

 

Steve’s eyelashes were ridiculous.

They were both lying on their sides now, legs entangled in each other, bodies pressed so closely she could feel his heartbeat in various places. Her fingers itched to brush his lashes, to fan over their long length. Somehow they looked as though he’d used an extremely productive mascara wand, a thought that had her fighting to hold back a snort. Luckily she held it back—-Steve seemed to run on so little sleep, nowadays. He had during the war, as well, but here and now he had the opportunity to sleep. She was inclined to let him rest, and guard him while he slumbered. Waking with him surrounding her, being able to have his face be the first thing she saw upon opening her eyes, filled her with a fierce urge to protect unlike any she’d ever known. Steve didn’t need protecting, she knew it better than anyone, but the demand to care for him, to keep him out of harm’s way and stop the world from hurting him, lodged in under her skin and drummed through her while he calmly breathed in and out.

He seemed so peaceful while he slept.

Without warning, need surged through her so powerfully she nearly indulged herself and ran her fingers over him. They’d made love once more in the early hours of the dawn, sliding into each other before either of them had fully awakened. As a result she was sore; achingly, pleasantly sore. Steve had kissed her, and held her, murmuring devotions into her ear while rocking into her, pleasuring them both. And yet suddenly it was if he’d never satisfied her, which he bloody well had. Her body burned with the need for him, desperation tingling in nearly every part of her, aching to reach out and wake him, to feel his hands on her again.

She knew why, obviously she knew why. Her clock was running out, the time to have him to herself was fading away as every single second passed. It twisted her stomach, made her nearly out of her mind with an urgency to touch, and claim, and remember.

To cherish.

But the rest of it was locked away into a box in her mind that wasn’t going to be opened yet. It needed to be discussed, she wasn’t a fool—-Fury, and his plan, and Tony’s health, and time travel—they needed to be honest about the situation and face it head on at some point. But not yet.

By God, not yet.

As if he could feel the desire radiating from her, a flicker of awareness passed over Steve’s face. Brows twitched briefly, his mouth pressed together tighter, then blue eyes snapped open, instantly awake.

Determination filled those eyes. Peggy had no doubt that if she had been an attacker she would be on her back or flung across the room in moments. But he blinked, and when he looked at her again the battle readiness was gone. The endless blue eyes were thoughtful, yet bright, watching her as if he wasn’t sure where to go next.

Peggy made it simple. Lifting her hand, she reached forward for the contact, the connection. Tracing his brow the way she’d wanted, she let her hand drift down to trail along the edges of his beard, and over his lips, then back up to brush into his soft hair. Inch by inch the tension waking so suddenly had caused in him faded away, until he was soft and pliant under her touch, nearly back asleep again.

“Peggy,” he murmured, eyes closing half-way while she caressed him. It was the most relaxed she’d seen him, so she kept carding her fingers through his hair, leaning forward to lightly press her lips to his. At his appreciative hum, she took it deeper, opening her mouth and breathing him in.

“Need you,” Steve stated sleepily when she pulled away. “So much, Peg.”

“Right now?” she teased, nipping his ear. And then this time _she_ was the one with the busy hands trailing down his body, drawing her hands down, and wasn’t it brilliant of them to have fallen asleep naked?

His sleepiness vanished, certain parts of his body clearly rousing instantly, as her hands stopped on the small plane of his stomach above his hips. His sharp inhale had her smiling. “Do you want me, Captain?”

Blue eyes smoldered so deeply they were nearly black. “Always.”

“Well, then,” Peggy managed, overcome by the intensity in his voice. That was was fine by her, she’d been far from relaxed. Each brush of her fingers against his skin had fire licking through her, pushing past the instinct to go soft and lazy in the soft morning light. Last evening it had been slow and sweet, but now Peggy’s body was taut and full of nerves. The need to be with him again snapped through her impatiently—- her morning desire intensifying to pool powerfully in her abdomen—-becoming a forceful urge she couldn’t ignore. Wrapping one of her legs over his, she rolled and straddled him, dipping her head down low to hover above him for a moment, to watch those brilliant eyes widen and glaze over further with his own need.

“I love you,” she said, and captured his lips with hers before he could reply. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the words—-hearing his soft rumble was thrilling, each time he said them, and truly, she did love to hear it—-but she didn’t want Steve to give. Not this time. She wanted him to _take_ —-take the love she offered so freely, take the comfort, take the shoulder that had never had the chance to be there for him. She wanted him to let someone else carry the burden for a little while, and for once in his bloody damn life, be selfish.

Blankets and sheets were shoved and kicked aside, and one hand snaked out to grab protection while the other continued to run through his hair. Despite the desire racing through her she kept her touch soft, loving. Steve needed love, God knew he deserved it. Feelings she didn’t know how to express, ones of gratitude and affection and appreciation were poured into the kiss. She held nothing back. If she could give herself entirely to anyone, it was Steve.

It was always Steve.

The kiss was endless. She didn’t stop kissing him, she never wanted to stop kissing him. Ravaging him the best she could, she gave and gave—and if the way he gasped and responded was any indication, she was succeeding. It only fueled her; the condom was unwrapped and she was slithering down to cover him in moments.

A sharp hiss ripped out of Steve as she ran her hands down his length, which led her mind to other ideas, other ways to pleasure him, but that might be best saved for later. His gasping was quickly cut off as she slid back up and once again took his mouth.

“Peggy,” he groaned as they broke apart. Somehow he managed to sneak his hand between them, and he stroked her lightly while she angled herself, situated herself over him. “Peggy. God.”

“Shhh,” she whispered, licking his neck, ripping another moan from him. His fingers moved, lighting fast, rubbing her desperately, and she let out a moan of her own, before gathering her wits about her enough to go back to her plan. “Let me take care of you, darling.”

When she sank down onto him, he bucked wildly off the bed, plunging into her so deep he hit a bundle of nerves that she hadn’t realized existed. Vision whiting out, Peggy threw her head back, completely blindsided by the pleasure exploding through her. But this time Steve didn’t stop, didn’t pause to give her time to adjust. His hips canted up, then back down, driving himself into her in a frenzied rate that had her smiling with her eyes were still closed. Her Captain was nearly uncoordinated in his frantic rush to couple them together, and it was exactly what she wanted.

Eventually she came back to herself enough to realize certain body parts were being neglected, and grabbed his hands, bringing them to her chest. As his hands cuppped her breasts carefully, thumbs rubbing over her nipples, she let out another small moan.

There was nothing but the feel of him, the scent of him. Opening her eyes, she looked down to find him gazing up at her with a new intensity—-one that seared into the heart of her, that stole her breath and made her head spin. There was power there—-in his body, thanks to the serum, but also part of his very essence. That strength that never yielded, the control that was never loosed. Here with her, it was beginning to unravel, and she moved herself faster, bringing him into her deeper, wanting him to feel safe enough to come undone.

“Steve,” Peggy managed, and his fingers dug into her, then immediately released, as if he were trying to remember to keep himself in check. Urgent and desperate, Peggy leaned back, changing the position a little. Steve’s next thrust reached new places that nearly made her out of her mind, and had him gripping tight once again.

Clever hands ran over her, and he thrusted so deeply she couldn’t help but pant and fall apart again a little—-but she held it back, ignored the tremors beginning to shudder in her thighs, in her sex.

_More_ , her mind screamed as she arched back, letting him in further. He needed more, she needed to give it to him, and she would refuse to find her own release again until she did. His fingers scrabbled on her hips, helping her up only to bring her back down, but the sweat beginning to gather on them both made his hands slip. Snarling, Steve reached for her again, and not intending to let him do all the work, Peggy rolled her hips and slammed down onto him, muscles clenching around him tightly as she did.

“Peggy.” His voice was garbled, half-begging as she continued to ride him as fast as her body would allow. “I’m...Peg, we need to slow down a little.”

“It’s alright, I’m there with you,” she told him, driving herself faster, digging her nails into his shoulder while she tried to seek out his pleasure. The sounds she shook out of him made it difficult—-his groans and soft noises only made her more dismantled, more out of control. How he could shred past her defenses so easily had always been a mystery to Peggy, but she’d never wanted it otherwise. But this time she wanted it to be about him. His happiness, his pleasure, his needs. For once she would make damn sure he wasn’t putting others first.

She let herself quiver all around him, muscles tightening each time he pushed in.

“Peggy,” he gasped again.

“It’s alright, darling.” Love surging through her, she bent down to nuzzle his neck. “Let go. Let go, Steve. I promise to follow right after.”

She bit down gently on his neck, and clenched down around him at the same time. She timed it so she did it as he thrust into her, and it worked brilliantly. Steve came with a shout, head falling back, tightening in Peggy’s arms. He shattered under her, shaking all over, while she took him through it, running her hands over his chest, kissing him softly .

When she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, to make it even better for him, he turned the tables on her by tilting his head and pressing a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to her own neck. White-hot fire flashed through her, and she knew the reason for the sudden and intense climax wasn’t because of the perfect angle of Steve’s body in hers, or the strength of his arms, or the warmth of his skin.

But because for that one moment, he was absolutely hers. And the knowledge of it, the enormity of having Steve Rogers there with her, in the most intimate of ways possible, toppled her right over the edge.

_Remember_ , she begged herself while she pulled Steve close, while lightning raced down her spine. Another kiss, and hands softly brushed back her hair, then cupped behind her head, so tenderly the gesture made her eyes blur. Blue eyes shined lovingly while she tried to pull herself together, holding her as if she were fragile as glass.

_Remember._

Spent, Peggy collapsed forward, tangling into him, knowing she should at least try to land somewhere other than on top of Steve and failing miserably. Her face crushed down to land between his neck and shoulder, her breath bursting out in ragged gasps as her heart pounded. Blinking rapidly, she held back the tears. She had no problems with them, a good cry could be therapeutic at times, but she didn't want them here. Not when they were still entwined.

Attempting to voice her thoughts out loud, to tell him how thankful she was for their time, to try to explain the love she would always feel for him, completely failed--- she was too drained. All she could manage was nuzzling into his neck.

Hands ran up her back, then back down again. “That,” Steve declared, after a while, his voice sounding far more steady than it had any right to, “was the best wake up call I’ve ever had.”

Snorting, Peggy found the energy to lift her head. “Happy to be of service, Captain.”

He chuckled, arms stilling to wrap around her tight. “I love you too, you know,” he said quietly.

“I know, Steve.” Dammit, her voice broke on the words, and she didn’t want that, didn’t want the awful truth to rear it’s head yet. She was still so thankful, still so glad to be with him. So she cleared her throat and didn’t bother bringing reality into the lovely after-glow of the morning. Refrained from mentioning what had to happen next.

Instead she kissed his ear, appreciating how he shuddered.

“We’re a complete mess, Captain.” The blankets were on the floor, and her body was faintly covered in sweat. It was likely to become uncomfortable any moment, but she still didn’t have the energy to move.

Steve hummed. “We should probably do something about that.” He was on his feet in seconds, making Peggy yelp and scrabble to hold on to him. 

“Steve! What the blazes are you doing?”

“Let’s go take a bath.”

She would have protested, but truthfully, nothing sounded better, so she snuggled in and held on.

 

 

 

“No. I don’t believe you. You’re teasing me, Steve, and I won’t fall for it,” she laughed, wiping a strange, floofy puff ball over his chest. They were in an extravagant tub, bubbles covering them entirely. Peggy had Steve sitting between her legs, her holding him for a change. After all the times he’d carted her around, it was time for a switch up.

And she wasn’t nearly done caring for him yet.

Dropping the loofah, as Steve called it, back in the water, she rested her hands on his shoulders and started a massage.

His head fell forward with a long groan. “God, that feels good,” he said, sighing.

“So tense, Captain.” She pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Now. Please explain to me how on earth a device capable of the most extraordinary computing abilities is used mainly for playing games and staring at cats.”

“I’m sorry to tell you it’s true,” he laughed. “Tony wasn’t lying.”

“Nonsense. Who would use such a fascinating device for games?”

“I use mine to play boggle all the time,” he said sheepishly.

Snorting, she moved her hands lower. “Ah, so you confess to being part of the problem. Clearly this future has corrupted you. Surely there are more uses for the device and things to do?”

“That’s awful judgmental, Peg,” he laughed. “Next you’ll be telling people to get off your lawn.”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, but I’m fairly certain that statement isn’t flattering.”

“It’s okay. We can yell at people to get off the lawn together,” he said. Then his shoulders tensed again, as he realized what he’d implied. That there would be a yard for them to inform people to stay away from. That they could help each other through the oddities of this future, that she would stay.

That they would have a future together. 

Not saying anything, Peggy wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, pressing her head against his.

“Shall we talk about it?” she asked after a while, uncertain what she wanted the answer to be.

Steve hugged her closer. “Not just yet,” he said.

They stayed like that for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, someone started writing and intended to get on with the plot and ended up with fluff and a bit more smut instead.
> 
> I regret nothing. Steve deserves it.
> 
> (But we get back into the timey-wimey aspects of the plot next week)


	16. Chapter 16

Peggy made tea.

It was often her go-to in times of crisis—when the world got demanding and she needed a moment to think, the steady routine of preparing a spot of tea soothed her, helped organize her thoughts. The calming effect it had often enabled her to see the bigger picture as she sat down to add milk, sugar, cream.

She needed to focus on the bigger picture, now.

Breakfast had been delightful. Uninterrupted this time, Steve and Peggy had stuffed themselves, trading stories and laughter, able to push back the gloom that had overtaken them in the bath. She’d even played a bit of the phone game he was so fond of, and damned if she had to admit it was kind of addicting.

But the hours had passed. And it was time to stop pretending.

When the kettle shrieked, she poured tea into a Captain America mug and went to join Steve at the table.

“What have you decided?” she asked quietly. Would Steve fight Fury's plan of erasing memories, or go along with it? 

Staring at the coffee he’d chosen over tea, Steve sighed and shook his head. “I really don’t have much choice. If Fury convinces everyone to take the memory eraser, I can’t stop them.”

“And why is that? It’s not like you to back down from a challenge.”

Pressing his lips together, he waited a moment then said, “The thing is, I kinda see Fury’s point. I don’t exactly agree with it, but...I don’t know. Maybe instead of altering everyone’s memories we can create some kind of system for dealing with time travel, still keep it in our hands. But this is something I never expected to deal with. What do you think?”

“I think they should be allowed to choose,” Peggy said carefully. “But other than that? I don’t know the right answer, Steve.” 

“Yeah.” He lifted his coffee mug. “I won’t let him take the memories of someone who doesn’t want to participate. We’ll have to work around that. But if they choose...” he stopped, lowering the mug without taking a drink, eyes narrowing. “There should be intense discussion going on about this. If anything, we should have heard the shouting the second Tony learned of it.”

“That would be my fault, Captain.” Peggy almost dropped her own cup when FRIDAY spoke up. She’d nearly forgotten the AI existed. “Boss has strict orders that you and Agent Carter are to be left alone.”

Steve closed his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “Of course he does. So there have been discussions occurring?”

“All morning, Captain. The conversations have grown quite heated.”

“We should go participate,” Peggy said softly.

“Boss wanted me to inform you that since you two already know your situations, there’s no reason for you to join them. He stated, and I quote, that ‘Rogers should goddamn relax and let others handle things for once’, and that Agent Carter shouldn’t leave him’”

Steve frowned. Whether it was because of what FRIDAY had said or the strangeness of hearing the AI curse, she wasn’t sure.

“Tell Tony I’m fine,” he said. “I don’t need coddling. We’ll be joining them soon.”

“Boss figured you’d say that. He also wanted me to tell you that if you insist on joining them, you’ll need to make your way to the medbay. The debate has been moved there.”

The frown increased. “Why?” Steve asked, but Peggy already knew. Damn it. She should have expected it, should have known that it would happen.

“He’s been unable to leave since Ms. Potts took him there this morning, Captain. Boss’s body is failing.”

Steve shot out of his chair. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

“There isn’t anything you or Agent Carter can do, Captain. Boss said that if he has to be stuck in medical, he would at least like to know that the love story of the twentieth century was able to find closure.”

“Dammit, Tony,” Steve swore. Abandoning her tea, Peggy rose, trying to keep her guilt and misery down. FRIDAY was right, there wasn’t much they could do.

Other than send Peggy back.

“We should go to him.” Whether or not they could be useful, leaving him alone to suffer was not acceptable.

“Yeah,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. But he didn’t move to leave yet. “Peggy...”

Quietly, Peggy smiled at him and picked up her tea, moving to the sink. For the first time she could remember, she had no idea what to say. Their alone time had come to an end. Reluctant to leave his wing didn’t even begin to cover how she felt. Once they left, the odds of being able to come back and be together again were slim.

But what choice did they have? Bigger picture, she reminded herself, steeling her shoulders and turning back around. There was more than just the two of them in the world.

“I don’t,” Steve began again. Then took a breath, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were full of misery; the despair visible even from her position across the room. “God, Peggy. I don’t want you to go.”

How could she possibly respond to such honesty? The words ripped into her, making her throat close up momentarily, keeping her from replying. This was Steve at his most vulnerable, baring his soul—- and she wasn’t going to be able to respond in kind. If she did, if she admitted how terrified she was of having to say goodbye again, if she told him she wasn’t sure if she could bear it...

It would make things excruciating for him when she left. When he was the only one to remember their time together. She couldn’t leave him with memories of her falling apart, or cursing the world. She couldn’t do that to him.

“We’ve time yet.” She fought for control—- being in control was what Agent Carter was well-known for, applauded for, and she couldn’t let go of it now. Losing her composure, allowing herself to bury her head in his shoulder and weep, would do nothing but make things harder on Steve. She needed to make this as easy on him as she possibly could.

Light, and teasing. She had to keep the pretense up, as she had when the plane went down. If she didn’t, he’d see her heart bleeding.

“We should go rescue Stark from his melancholy.” It wasn’t said as brightly as she’d like, but she didn’t sound miserable. That was something. “I’d wager he’ll think he can take me in a game of chess. Shall we go see if he can defeat me?”

It took a moment. But Steve briefly nodded, realizing what she was doing. Swallowing, he followed her example, keeping up the banter.

“I don’t know,” he said, tone easy-going enough that if you didn’t see the set of his jaw, you wouldn’t know he was upset. “Stark’s damn good at chess, Peggy. But I’d put my faith in you every time.”

His words nearly undid her, but she held firm. “The same goes, Captain,” she said softly. “Shall we?”

He nodded, looping her arm through his. If he noticed the way her hand trembled, he didn’t mention it.

Just as she refrained from commenting on his.

 

 

 

“Ugh, stop hovering. Go away. Shoo.”

“Stop behaving like a child.”

“No.” Stark frowned, kicked at his sheets, then pushed away the tray holding the chess set. The hospital bed he was stuck in made him seem small, and his eyes were sunken into his gaunt frame while he glared at her. He tugged at the nasal cannula providing him extra oxygen and tried again. “I really, really don’t need you here.”

“Yes, I heard you the first thirty times.”

“Then you should leave. Take Captain Stick-Up-His-Ass for ice cream or something. God knows the man deserves to have a little fun. Get him out of the medbay, Carter.”

As if Steve would walk away. He currently stood in the corner with Potts and FitzSimmons, while they tried to do something about Tony’s rapidly deteriorating health. Peggy reached forward, smoothing out the rumpled blankets. His pouting and whining didn’t fool her for an instant.

“If you’re trying to make amends with Steve, Tony, you should speak with him directly,” she said, arching a brow.

Those brown eyes narrowed. “I’m not trying to make anything.”

“No? It seems to me like you’ve been trying to give him an opportunity to not shoulder the responsibility of a problem for once. Almost as if you’re trying to make up for your reaction to the news of the Winter Solider murdering your parents.” She didn’t stop at his flinch and kept going. “As if you’re trying to find a way to say you’re sorry, without bringing traumatic memories up. But of course you wouldn’t do that. Silly of me to presume.”

A scowl flashed over Stark’s hagged features, and his eyes narrowed at her. “Not a damn thing gets by you, does it?”

“Not thus far.”

“Uh huh,” he grumbled. Then he sighed. “Not sure I can walk up and just say I’m sorry, Peggy. I don’t hate him anymore, I never really did. But...a lot of shit went down. And I won’t remember the conversation, anyway. The next time I see Cap, I’ll be back to despising him.”

That shocked Peggy enough that she could only blink at him. “You’re going along with Fury’s plan?”

Stark snorted. “Yeah, surprised the hell out of me to agree with Fury, too. The thing is...if we don’t, there’s the chance this could happen again.”

“This? Your long dead aunt appearing from 1947?”

“No, not that,” he laughed, wheezing slightly. Then he gestured to the medical equipment. “This. The whole, deteriorating-from-the-inside-out thing. It’s not pleasant. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and if we messed with time, and it happened to someone without our knowing...God, if it happened to a _kid_....”

He trailed off, then set his jaw. “Anyway. After I collapsed earlier—it is _not_ your fault, stop looking so guilty—-most of us realized maybe knowing about time travel is a bad thing. So, agreeing to Fury’s plan. Which means any heartfelt reunion will be promptly forgotten.”

“Steve will remember. Would you rather he not know the truth?”

Opening his mouth to no doubt make a smart comeback, Tony paused, then started coughing terribly. The fit made his shoulders heave and body shudder, and feeling completely useless, Peggy leaned over to offer him a handkerchief. Taking it with a small nod, he continued to hack and wheeze, tears slipping out the corner of his eyes. She didn’t need to see his nostrils flare angrily to know it vexed and frustrated him to have them slip out. He was far too like Howard, in some aspects.

Her own chest ached in sympathy as he the coughing wrecked through him—-accompanied by a large helping of guilt. Unintentional or not, his declining health was caused by her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

“Not your fault,” he insisted when he was able to speak again. “Stop blaming yourself.”

But she barely heard his protests, her focus going directly to the handkerchief—which was spotted with red blood where he’d coughed into it.

Tony caught her gaze and sighed. “That’s happened a few times now, don’t worry about it.”

“Tony.”

“Ah, jeez, now you sound like Pep. How have I never noticed you two have the same tone of disapproval?” It would have been more mocking if his voice hadn’t weakened while he said it, his words barely above a whisper by the time he asked the question.

“I am going to fix this,” Peggy said.

“Dammit, you’re not respons—-“ Tony rasped, then started coughing violently again. This time, the coughing fit was so severe it drew the attention of Pepper, who stepped away from the group huddle outside his room and rushed to Tony’s bedside.

“Oh, Tony. Here.” Rubbing his shoulders with one hand, she grabbed a cup of water off the tray with the other and handed it to him. Tony nodded his thanks, and took a small sip when the coughs subsided. Peggy began making her way to the door. Staying here while Potts tended to him felt like intruding on a private moment---and as much as she wanted to make sure Tony was all right, Peggy didn't need to intrude. 

Catching onto her escape, Tony lifted an eyebrow at her, and, with a shaky hand, handed the cup back to Pepper. Then wiped his mouth with the handkerchief again.

Pepper’s eyes filled at the blood still lingering on the corner of his lips.

“I’m okay, Pep.” The rasp was once again a whisper. Potts didn’t say anything, only bent down to press Stark close, running her hands through his hair. As his arms slowly moved up and wrapped around Pepper’s waist, Peggy silently left.

Unnerved thanks to the situation (it was a problem she couldn't solve by hitting something, and Peggy very desperately wished for something to hit), she paused outside of Stark's room. Steve was still in deep conversation with FitzSimmons. At some point Coulson, Vision, and Rhodes had joined in, and the six of them stood with grim faces, as holographs hovered around them. Interesting that they were all gathered there, she'd have thought they'd be in one of the labs, working on the time travel contraption. Why were they here, and not there? Simmons was likely caring for Stark, but what was Fitz and Vision doing in the medical ward? Prepared to make her way toward them, Peggy paused when Fury stepped through the entrance doors.

“Agent Carter, a word?”

Well, it still wasn't a situation where she could hit something, but she _could_ follow the director and try to walk out the impatient frustration snapping through her. Silently, Peggy followed him out of the medbay, wondering what the director was up to. It didn’t escape her notice that he had ignored everyone else in the room. Not just ignored, but blatantly avoided eye contact.

What didn’t he want them to know?

“You’re wondering what the hell I’m up to,” Fury said, opening a lab door. It was a much smaller, more modest lab than the ones Peggy had been in so far. Unlike the others, there were barely any glass windows, the walls made of actual wood and plaster. Some equipment took up room in the corner, but it was largely empty.

Peggy lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t seem the type to do things for no reason, so it’s occurred to me that you are up to something, yes.”

“And you’re not sure how to feel about it.”

Putting her hands on her hips, Peggy asked, “Are we here for a character analyzation or did you need to tell me something?”

Fury threw his head back and laughed. “You just don’t know what to think about me, do you, Carter? It must bug the hell out of you.”

It did, and it smarted that he knew it, so she kept her facial expression bored. “Is this what you wanted to discuss?”

“Nah. But you gotta admit, your mind’s in overdrive, wondering, ‘ _How on earth did THIS guy end up the leader of one of the most secret organizations in the world?’_ You put me there, but you can’t puzzle it out.”

“And you’re about to enlighten me.”

“Course I am.” He leaned on a table, tilted his head at her. “I wasn’t always the top spy, you know. You knew me before I became the guy who’s secrets has secrets.”

“Are you about to try and tell me you used to be charming and naive?”

“Hell no,” Fury scoffed. “I was a pain in the ass. Followed the rules. Was a bit uppity about it, too. Didn’t want people thinking I was part of the hood, so I went the opposite direction. Wore a suit and tie, every damn day. Showed up to work early, stayed late. Took my job as an agent of Shield damn seriously. Though there were some people—-well, more than some, to be honest—-who thought I didn’t deserve to be there, that I didn’t deserve to move up the ranks. I ignored them, and kept doing my job. It caught your attention. You became something of a mentor.”

Unable to resist, she stated, “I’m sure we had several lovely chats over tea.”

“Please. You would randomly appear out of the damn blue and grill me on the appropriate conduct for a Code Five or some other random ass procedure. And if I didn’t know the answer, you’d have me read the protocols over and over again until I could recite the damn things in my sleep. You scared the hell out of me.”

Peggy blinked. “I what?

“People stopped misjudging you a long time ago,” Fury informed her, stepping over to the wall. Placing his hand on a glass box that appeared, he said, “By the time I met you, there was no doubt you were a formidable leader. Intimidated the shit out of me, I thought you were about to fire me any time I got an answer wrong, or made a decision that differed from what you would have done. But somehow you promoted me. You were a leader that encouraged and inspired her troops. Which I hope was a seed already planted in 1947. Because I’ve a feeling we need that kind of leadership now.”

The wall chirped and then a panel slid to the side. _Bloody secret rooms_ , Peggy thought, rolling her eyes. Once again she followed Fury, to find a room with more equipment, more holograms, and clocks ticking down, along with constantly running data. The entire room had a rather doomsday feel to it.

And there was the purple orb on display in the center of the main table. Eerily similar to the set up it had been in at Howard’s.

“Now you’re wondering what the hell the orb is doing here,” Fury smirked.

“Curiosity is part of the job description, Director,” Peggy said, circling the orb.

Snorting, Fury nodded. “That it is, Carter. You used to encourage curiosity, and following instincts. Those ideals kept me alive a time or two.”

“Happy to provide logical and obvious advice,” Peggy said dryly.

“I gotta admit, I’m surprised at you,” he said, ignoring her insult. “Super spy that you are, you’ve barely had any interest in the glowing device that brought you here. But, I suppose you’ve been a bit distracted.”

Brow lifting as he said it, Peggy fumed at his implication and reference to Steve. Daggers certainly would have flown out of her eyes if such a thing were possible, but Peggy could ignore jabs just as well as Fury. “You’ve information on what it is?”

“You ever hear the tale of Cassandra?”

She blinked. “The Greek myth? A princess of Troy cursed to tell prophecies, but no one believed her. What’s she have to do with this?”

“The orb,” Fury said, with a dramatic sweep of his arm toward the object in discussion, “is known as Cassandra’s Eye.”

Did he honestly think that would explain how the devil the thing had sent her forward seventy years? “I’m afraid I still don’t follow.”

“It shows you what you need to know. Cassandra comes in because most people who look into it don’t want to believe what they see. It has a tendency to show unpleasantness.”

Why was she constantly plagued with glowing items that could destroy the world or perform ridiculous, extraordinarily acts? “You expect me to believe it shows the future.”

“Not necessarily the future. But it shows you something you need to know. Howard tried to alter its basic function, use machines to harness its energy, so that it instead it would _take_ where you needed to _go_. From what you told Coulson and company, he was certain that that was to the time Steve crashed.”

“And we all know how well that turned out,” Peggy muttered.

Fury inclined his head at her. “Exactly. You were brought seventy years ahead instead of two behind, and Howard wasn’t even brought along.”

“You’re saying this orb, this Eye, _chose_ to bring me to this time?” Even with all she’d seen, it was a little much. “You can’t truly believe that.”

“Why not?” He said easily. “I’ve seen some weird shit. And that was before I met a Norse God and an android with a stone in his head.”

“The Eye likely doesn’t even work—“ Peggy began, but Fury shook his head.

“That was the first thing we tried. Trust me, it works. It’s a good thing I always carry a device twenty years old thanks to a promise I made, because what I saw in that thing? It’s big, and I’m gonna need backup. And the Eye doesn’t hold back. Fitz and Simmons nearly had to be sedated because of what they saw, and they still won’t talk about it. That’s why I’ve locked it in here until the rest of the device is ready. With this group of people we’re likely to see some traumatic foretellings.”

“And so it brought me to _this_ time? Now? Whatever for? There’s no war going on, no fight for survival.” It didn’t make sense, there was no possible way it just picked a random year and sent her there.

And that was playing along with the theory that Fury was correct.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe that’s what I just asked,” she snapped. “It doesn’t make sense, Director Fury. There’s no reason for it to—“

“I can think of one.”

She stopped short. “What?”

“I can think of a reason why it would send you here, to this time. This _specific_ moment in time. I think I know why.”

“Are you going to share with the class?” She demanded impatiently when he paused. “What would be the reason it would bring me here?”

“Not what. Who.”

Peggy stilled, wishing Stark was here with his bourbon. A bad feeling was beginning to creep down her spine. “A person is the reason it brought me here?”

“What I saw in that thing was horrifying, Carter. Something big is coming, Stark’s been saying it for years. And he’s not wrong. It’ll be here soon. And when it is, we’re gonna need all hands on deck.”

“So why didn’t the Eye send me to when it happens?”

“Because. I think you’re needed now.”

“To do what? Nearly kill Stark and mess with everyone’s memories?” But even as she snapped it out, she knew. There was only one person she could impact so intensely.

“From what I saw, when the Big Bad gets here, Cap’s gonna lose the one thing that’s keeping him grounded. Keeping him sane. Keeping him Steve.”

“Which is what?”

Fury sighed. “His faith. That hope he always has, that people will do the right thing, that the team will save the day. Events are coming that are going to test him, Carter. More than he already has been, if you can believe it. And if he doesn’t have something to believe in, something to fight for, he won’t get himself back.”

He took a breath, then asked, “How long do you think the rest of them will last if Steve Rogers gives up?”

Throat dry, Peggy tried to picture it. Tried to imagine Steve, her Steve, not leading the charge, not standing up, not planting his feet. Tried to envision him so lost he simply couldn’t go on.

She just couldn’t. Even when he’d been small, he’d gotten up. He’d always gotten up.

What horrible thing was going to happen to make him lose that?

“What are you saying?” She finally managed. “That I’m here to somehow remind Steve to keep his faith? I’m leaving, Director Fury, going back to 1947. How can that possibly help him?”

Shoving off the table, Fury paced around the room until they stood face to face. “Steve Rogers has always fought for everyone else’s freedom. Fought so they could have a home, love, safety. It’s been a while since he’s had some of that of his own. I think you were sent here to remind him what it’s like.”

“So it can be cruelly ripped away?” Her voice hitched, but Peggy didn’t care.Steve had already lost so much. Why would some object feel fit to make it worse?

For the first time, Fury dropped the sarcasm. His tone was nearly soft as he said, “It might be cruel, but it’s also a gift. A lost love reuniting again. Steve still carries a photo of you in his pocket. Even in his damn uniform. And I know for a fact you kept a photo of him from before the serum on your vanity until the day you died.”

Ridiculous, how this man seemed to know so much about her. Yet if she did indeed trust him til the end of her life, if they did remain in contact after her retirement...

Perhaps there truly had been a kinship there. Considering him, Peggy lowered her defenses, just a little, and asked what she needed to know.

“Steve still has the compass?” It was thought to have been on him during the plane crash, for it was never found with his belongings after. The compass-turned-locket, which had been source of constant entertainment with the Commandos. They’d teased Steve about it relentlessly---and Peggy too, when they’d had a drink and had been feeling brave.

Teasing rolled right off of Steve—he would just smile and continue on. And Peggy never let it bother her, either. Damned if she wasn’t secretly pleased with it.

Fury replied, “He had it with him when the Valkyrie went down. Told me once that you gave him the courage to do what needed to be done. It was a strength of yours he tried to replicate.”

“Steve never needed lessons on courage,” she murmured, touched by the Captain’s words all the same.

“No, Cap’s always had courage in spades,” Fury agreed.

“And now—-what? I’m supposed to be fine with that courage and bravery being exploited, being used to boost mankind’s morale?” Steve was always being used. As a symbol, as a salesman.

As the one to make the sacrifice because no one else had the strength to do it.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Fury shrugged. “But it’s the theory I’ve got.”

“It’s a terrible theory,” Peggy said without any heat. Exhaustion pressed down on her, making her want to curl up with Steve and hide away. It would never happen, but she allowed herself the moment to daydream briefly, then pushed it away and squared shoulders.

“Maybe,” Fury said again. “That’s not the end of it, though. I think there’s more.”

Statements like that were beginning to make her lips curl. “What else could there possibly be?”

Fury shrugged. “See, that’s where my part in this play ends.”

Peggy just stared at him.

“Cassandra's Eye showed me a future where Cap loses his faith, and makes me never want to get stuck in a dust storm again. It showed Fitz Simmons a future that has something to do with a crack—-that’s about all I got out of them. But it doesn’t always show terrible fates. Just what you need to know. So I wonder...” he turned to the orb, then back to Peggy. “What would it show you, Agent Carter?”

"Are you suggesting I _use_ the damn thing? Stare into it, and see if it will solve all our problems? That seems remarkably irresponsible, we don't know what it would do. "

Shrugging his shoulders with a self-depreciating grin, Fury said, "Me? Nah. What do I know about enchanted objects and saving the world? I'm just an old man who likes cats." 

And with that he left, leaving Peggy alone to stare at the Eye.

 

 

When she returned to the medbay it was in chaos.

Shouting could be heard before Peggy opened the doors. Once she walked through them, numerous medical personnel appeared in her line of sight, hovering around Tony’s room. Two of them banged on Stark’s closed door, shouting at the ceiling. Romanoff attempted to argue with one of them, and Steve the other. Machines blared and screeched, and through the room’s window she could see Pepper’s slim figure standing at the foot of the bed, shaking.

“What the devil is going on?” Peggy demanded, striding over. They shouldn’t be shouting and screaming in the middle of the medical ward. And if nothing else, someone needed to be with Pepper. The woman looked like she was about to collapse.

When Maria Hill stepped in front of her, Peggy reared back, tilting her head and arching an eyebrow. She’d barely spoken to the Assistant Director since arriving, and now the woman seemed determined to intercept Peggy before she got too close to the madness.

If she weren’t so concerned for what was occurring, Peggy would have been impressed.

“Stark is...not doing well,” Hill said, her voice brisk and even despite the chaos of the room. “He’s started violently vomiting blood, and can’t stop. The surgeons are determined to take scans and take him under the knife to see what’s wrong. They’re convinced his liver or another organ is failing, because we can’t tell them what’s really happening to him. Though they aren’t exactly wrong. But according to Simmons, invasive surgery might make things worse. He might never leave the operating table. FRIDAY refuses to let the doctors in. They aren’t taking it well, and Steve and Natasha don’t seem to be helping.”

Horrified, Peggy stared at the room. Things were worse, far worse, than she’d thought. Inside the room, Pepper turned sideways—tears streamed down her face, while Rhodes hunched over the figure on the bed, helping Tony get sick into a little basin.

“Where is Agent Simmons?” Peggy asked, searching around.

“She’s with Fitz and Vision, frantically trying to find a way to create the device. If you aren’t sent back soon...” Hill paused, pressed her lips together. Then, “It’s not just Tony. The other half of Coulson’s team are reporting extensive increases in Hydra activity. Things are rapidly getting worse.”

“Are they any closer to finding a solution?”

“Not that I know of,” Hill replied The briskness faltered a little, as Tony collapsed back into his bed, looking as if he were about to stop breathing at any moment. Maria sighed. "Nothing they do helps him."

“You’re concerned for his well-being?” Peggy asked. She couldn’t say she was surprised. He had a way of growing on you, just as his father had. Though she hadn't considered the Shield agents would be so attached to him.

“He was technically my boss for a while.” Hill’s lips curved. “He’s not a half-bad guy, once you get past the narcissism.”

And for the moment it seemed, he was being given a break. Peggy shifted as some of the machines quieted and Stark relaxed, wishing there was more she could do than just stand around, waiting to go back to 1947.

“You were the reason I joined Shield,” Hill said suddenly. At Peggy’s quizzical look, she flushed slightly. “I was armed forces. Pretty good at it, too. Til the day I met Fury, and he tried to convince me Shield was the way to go, the best place for me. Didn’t believe him, until he started talking about this old boss he used to have—the founder of Shield. A woman, who had been a spy during WWII, and was determined to keep the world they’d fought so hard for safe. The stories he told...that woman was everything I wanted to be. The role model I'd always searched for. Fury was smart enough to know that, to play on it. Asked me, _"What better way is there of securing Peggy Carter’s legacy than recruiting more badass women just like her to keep Shield going?_ So,” she shrugged and said, “I joined Shield.”

Peggy tilted her head and studied Maria. The woman's face was still pink, but Hill continued, saying, "I thought you should know. Everybody knows Cap, is inspired by him. But my inspiration was you.”

Flabbergasted, and more than a little humbled, Peggy stared at her. Had she really inspired so many, in her long life? Fury, and Maria, and Romanoff and Coulson. She'd never dreamed she would one day leave anything like a legacy. She'd only tried to do her job, protect the world, and be the best damn agent she possibly could.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Hill continued. “I just thought you’d like to hear it. And...What you’re going back to? Those men who demean you, ignore you, take your credit. You beat them, Agent Carter. Even though you know your value and don’t need their approval, they were wrong to do it. And you beat them.” Hill paused, looked over to Steve. “And whatever happens next? We’ll beat it because of you. Because you never backed down. We won’t, either.”

After her little encounter with Fury and Cassandra's Eye, it was exactly what she needed to hear. “Agent Hill, you flatter me. I’m beginning to wish we’d spent more time together.”

Maria’s lips twitched as Steve—-who had finally stopped arguing with the doctor— crossed the room. “Somehow, I think you were with the person you were meant to be with. Hey, Cap.”

“Maria.” Steve nodded. “Peggy, Tony’s asking for you. He seems to think—”

His words were cut off as the entrance doors to the medical ward were flung open. Simmons charged through, with Vision, Coulson and Fitz hot on her heels.

“It’s done,” she said as the room went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “The machine is done.”


	17. Chapter 17

It was time.

Somehow, Peggy managed to stay standing. Silence still rang through the medical ward—-no one spoke, no one moved. The stare of seven people bore into her, all with varying degrees of emotion. Coulson, Vision, and Fitz had downcast eyes, avoiding direct eye contact. Coulson’s lips pressed into a thin line, and Fitz looked exhausted.

Eyes wide, Simmons opened her mouth and then closed it a few times before just keeping shut, as if she didn't know what to say. Hill stood next to her, face carefully blank, and no doubt Romanoff was behind them with a similar expression.

Peggy couldn’t make herself turn to look at Steve.

She had to move forward. It was what she did; Hill had just applauded her for it, and Fury had commented on it before that—-Peggy Carter did what needed to be done. She got things done, period. Standing there, stunned, unable to move her feet or make her mouth work or keep the bloody damn tears from burning her eyes was _not_ her legacy. It wasn’t how she operated.

But she stared at Simmons, frozen, completely unable to draw up her usual bravado and determination. She wasn’t able to bring up anything at all. She was leaving. Her time was out. It was done.

They’d had so little time.

Tightness coiled in her chest, the intensity of it so thick it kept her from breathing, kept air from bringing life into her lungs. She was leaving. Steve would be alone, again, and she wouldn’t remember, she’d still think him dead, it was all going to be erased....

In Tony’s room, the machines screamed their alarms. It shocked Peggy into motion, breaking the spell Simmons words had placed on her.

Time to continue on.

“What do we do now?” she asked briskly, ignoring the conflicting emotions storming through her. _Keep going,_ Peggy told herself. _Keep going, don’t stop, don’t think._ Tony would die if she didn’t. “Do I just grab the device, or is there a procedure? Stark is running out of time, we need to take action.”

“We actually need to get you on a Quinjet and back to the mansion,” Fitz said. “You don’t want to end up stranded in 1947 in this part of the state.”

Good God, she hadn’t even thought of that. That just proved how her frazzled emotions compromised her logic.

“I’ll go get the jet ready,” said Coulson. “FitzSimmons, hand out the memory suppressants. Then we need to coordinate when they need to be taken.” He turned to go, then paused, looking back at Steve. “You should probably go with us, Cap. Once they take the suppressant, you’ll be back on the fugitive list.”

Steve made a noise of agreement, and Peggy was once again glued to the floor. He was coming with them, they wouldn’t be parted yet. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. And it gave her the courage to turn around and look at Steve.

There was very little of Steve Rogers in the man standing in the medical ward. Captain America stared out at her: jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, head lifted defiantly. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d assume that a dozen Hydra agents were close to storming the Compound. There was no teasing light in his eyes, no fond smile curving his lips. Barely any warmth at all radiated from him. Hands clenched, he looked as if he were ready for an exhausting battle.

In a strange way, he likely was. But it was a battle of thought, of emotions, the two of them faced this time.

Peggy desperately wished for an enemy to punch in the face, instead.

“You should go to Tony,” Steve said, not quite looking at her. “He had something he wanted to tell you. And you should probably say goodbye.”

Goodbye. Such a simple word, until you considered the depths of it. Nodding, Peggy turned, and walked into the Tony’s room, where the machines had once again calmed to a more steady beep rather than a shrill screech.

“Oh, thank God, you haven’t left yet,” Tony croaked when she walked in. “Rhodey, Pep, can you give us a minute?”

“Sure,” Pepper said, bending down to kiss his forehead. After straightening, she walked to Peggy, and then flung her arms around her.

“In case I don’t get to say goodbye later,” Pepper said, leaning back, eyes watering. “I’m so glad I got the chance to meet you.”

“And I you,” Peggy said, squeezing Pepper’s hands. “Thank you for making my stay in the 21st century so easy. Without you, I’d have likely gone mad.”

With a snort, Pepper squeezed her hands again, then stepped out. Rhodes was right behind her, leaving Peggy with a respectful, “It was an honor, Agent Carter.”

Peggy nodded, murmuring similar sentiments, and turned to the man in the hospital bed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly, walking over.

He waved her concern away. “I’ll be fine. Especially since the machine is ready.” Faltering a little at that, he cleared his throat and looked at Peggy with wide eyes. “Listen, Peggy, there’s something you need to do when you get back.”

“What are you talking about? I won’t remember anything when I get back.”

“You’ll have an extremely small window. The suppressant will take about five minutes to kick in. You need to take it, travel back to 1947, and immediately tell dad something.”

Shock had her jaw dropping. Was he joking? Surely he had to be jesting--there was no way she would do such a thing. Yet he didn't smile at all, only watched her with those wide, deep brown eyes. Gathering her wits about her, she sputtered, “I can’t possibly do that! The whole point of the bloody memory suppressant is so I don’t destroy this time! Telling Howard anything will jeopardize everything!”

“Not unless it’s something you’ve already done.”

“What in God’s name do you mean by that?” she demanded.

“Time travel shenanigans,” Tony muttered. He sighed. “I think you’ve already told dad this, so you have to do it again or things will get fucked up.”

For the second time, she was rendered speechless. Not caring for it, she managed to snap out, “Tell him _what_?”

“You have to make him promise to keep looking for Steve.”

Nothing could stop the bafflement. “WHAT?”

It made no sense. She couldn’t tell Howard to keep looking for Steve, she had _never_ been the one to encourage him in the first place. In fact, she had a rather horrid memory of begging him over a radio to let Steve go, which he’d clearly completely ignored.

“Look, I know how it sounds,” Tony was saying, voice barely above a whisper. “You think I want to spark his obsession? I spent half my goddamn life feeling inept thanks to Dad’s obsession with finding Cap, and here I am, fucking encouraging it. But you have to, Peggy. If you don’t, I think he’ll give up, and we’ll never find Steve in the ice.”

“I don’t understand,” Peggy said. She was so terribly confused, and she’d already been a mess of emotions.

Tony opened his mouth to speak, then gagged. Quickly, Peggy snatched a bucket for him to retch into, rubbing his back while he heaved.

“Fuck,” he groaned after a while. Slowly he leaned back into the bed, and Peggy placed the bucket back on the floor. Despite his heaving, nothing had come out.

“Sorry,” Tony rasped.

“It’s quite alright.” Grabbing a towel near the sink, she ran water over it, and came back to place it on his forehead. He moaned in relief as she settled it into place. “But you’ve yet to tell me why you think I need to do this.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Steve could never understand how the man he knew from before the ice turned into the person I grew up with.”

Peggy blinked—-this route of conversation hadn’t been anticipated at all. “Yes,” she said carefully, patting his forehead with the towel. “I had similar thoughts.”

“Took me a while to figure it out,” Tony said, wheezing a little. “What would make the man Captain America was friends with become the callous, disinterested father I had? I thought about it a lot, after I met Cap. And then again, after...after Siberia. Then I realized it wasn’t what. But who.”

“I still don’t understand,” Peggy said, putting the towel down.

“Not long before I was born, Dad got a business partner. His name was Obidiah Stane. We all thought he had our best interests at heart, that he was part of the family, but... Let’s just say I learned the hard way that he was NOT.”

His eyes seemed so pained when he said it. Without thinking, Peggy ran her hand through his hair, soothing him as she would a child. “And you think he was the reason for Howard’s abrupt personality turn?”

“I don’t think it was abrupt,” Tony said. “Stane was good at playing people, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized he had manipulated Dad. Constatnly manipulated him, without anyone noticing. I think Stane made Dad do things he wouldn’t normally consider for years. _Years_ , Peg, it was gaslighting at its most extreme.”

But she would have been there. And if Peggy hadn’t been around, Jarvis and Ana certainly would never have left Howard to some rotten man’s whim. “How could such a thing have happened?”

Sighing again, Tony stated, “It would have started with Stane keeping Dad busy after I was born—-claiming they were working to secure my future or some shit. Then he wanted Dad to stop associating with you, but you were too stubborn for that.” His lips turned up a little in a smirk as he said it. Peggy couldn’t help but smile back.

“Still,” Tony continued, “I think Stane found ways to push you away more than anyone realized. I think you would have been around even more than you were, but Obidiah blocked you somehow. He was a snake like that. But Stane wasn’t entirely successful. You and Dad remained friends, and even when he was an ass to everyone else, Dad never crossed you.”

At that he had to stop, and take a break to cough. When they finally subsided, Tony said, “So Stane isolated Dad in other ways. Convinced Dad to send me to boarding school. Worked him so much he barley saw Mom. Had Jarvis retire early. Plus, there was the constant alcohol he plied Dad with. It was...at one point, it was a lot.”

Oh, Howard. Peggy knew very well what being surrounded by the wrong people could do to a person. She’d nearly lost herself and gave up her own career because of it. And Howard, for all his genius, would have been more susceptible to gaslighting than most. Despite his nonchalantness, he had always been so determined to please, to be the best.

But she still couldn’t see how Tony’s revelation tied in with messing with the time stream. “What does this have to do with searching for Steve? Shouldn’t I warn Howard about Stane?”

“No.” Tony grimaced. “Although I wish you could. It would save me a lot of fucking personal pain. But that would mess everything up. You need to tell Dad to keep looking. You need to practically beg him to.”

Beg _Howard_? Of all things. Crikey, he’d never let her hear the end of it. “Tony—-“

“Stane tried to get him to stop. They argued over it, a few times. I had forgotten that. And Stane was furious that Dad never backed down, never stopped looking, never stopped wasting resources. And I think the reason he never did was because of you.”

Tearing at her hair would not solve the problem, but as she still couldn’t hit anything, it was drastically becoming a potential second option. Exasperated and weary, she asked, “Why? What makes you possibly think that?”

“Dad never crossed you,” Tony repeated. “Never. He said that he had let you down once, and that he never really forgave himself for it. That he’d do anything to keep from making that mistake again. I think you asked him to keep looking for Steve, and he did his damndest to keep that promise.”

She shook her head. “Tony, I never asked Howard to—-”

“That you remember.”

“What?”

“You never asked Dad to keep looking for Steve _that you remember_. We’re dealing with time travel and memory suppressants, here. I think you asked him, Peggy. And you have to do it again, before the suppressant kicks in.”

She pressed her hands to her temples. “Tony...”

“If you don’t, all of this will be for nothing. And Steve will be lost in the ice forever.”

She dropped her hands. “You’re certain?”

Tony lifted a shaking hand, pointed at himself. “Genius. I’m certain, Peggy.”

Was such a thing truly possible? Bloody time travel and mysticism, she’d had just about enough. But it didn’t stop her mind from racing, trying to puzzle it all out. Was this part of the reason the Eye had sent her to this time? Just to go back and convince Howard to search for Steve?

Tempted to claim it as rubbish, she took a good look at the Stark in front of her. The man who stared back was exhausted, but confident, and more than a little nervous she was about to argue. Which she bloody well should, this was preposterous, it endangered everything they’d fought to keep safe.

And yet.

Nerves zipped through her, but she shook her head and gave her answer.

“All right.” She couldn’t _believe_ she was playing along with this, but... “I’ll do my best. I have faith in you.”

His head sharply snapped away. “Yeah, well. You’re one of the only people who ever did. You and Jarvis.”

Leaning over, she softly pressed a kiss to his forehead. “The Howard I knew would be proud. Take comfort in that. And know that I’m proud and grateful that I got to know you, as well.”

Eyes wide, Tony gaped at her.

“Well. Jeez,” he said, astonished. She had the feeling that if she called Pepper and Rhodes in, they’d be flabbergasted. It likely wasn’t often Stark was flustered.

Or blushed.

That, too, was just like Howard.

“Thanks, Peggy,” he said. “Goes without saying the feeling is mutual. I’m really glad I got to see you again. I...I’ve really missed you.”

“Take care of yourself, Tony. Aunt Peggy’s orders.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Probably leap right out of this bed, once you go back. Do me a favor? Tell Steve to remember what I said.”

“You made your amends?”

Settling back into the bed, he winced and closed his eyes. “Tried to. We’ll see how it goes, since I won’t remember a damn thing.”

“It was good of you to do that, Tony.”

“Yeah, well.” He opened his eyes, sent her a small smile. “Things tend to go the right way when I listen to my aunt.”

Saying nothing, Peggy reached over and held his hand. They stayed like that until Coulson came to tell her it was time to leave.

 

 

 

After she retrieved the clothes she’d arrived in and hurriedly changed into them, Romanoff, Hill, and Fury saw them off. 

It was strange, feeling a sense of kinship with Fury and Hill while they issued their goodbyes. They all nodded respectfully at one another, but there was more to it than that—-there was also an acknowledgment of what had occurred, of what needed to be done, and the iron-clad knowledge that things would be taken care of without her. Peggy’s nod was more than respectful; it was held with admiration for the two super spies. They had managed to keep her organization going, had been able to bring together a group of extraordinary people to do what they themselves couldn’t do.

And they kept trying to save the world themselves, regardless.

After Hill and Fury left, Romanoff walked them to the Quinjet. FitzSimmons and Coulson rustled about the jet, preparing to take off. Steve nodded at Natasha, prepared to walk inside, when Romanoff snaked out a hand and caught his wrist.

“You call me,” she said, quietly firm. “After Peggy leaves. You call me. Or Sam. Don’t shove everyone out.”

It was clear there was no room for argument, which Peggy rather appreciated. She didn’t want Steve to be alone after she left, either. Ducking his head, not looking at anyone, Steve nodded. “I’ll call, Nat. When I can.”

Peggy noted the way he avoided saying when that would be, but let it go. How he moved on was not her business. As long as he didn’t suffer alone for too long.

“Make sure you do,” Natasha said, and looked to Peggy.

Taking the hint, Steve walked into the jet and left the two women alone. A million thoughts ran through Peggy’s head—and she knew none of them she could voice out loud. Romanoff didn’t want or need her pity or advice, and she’d already seen with her own two eyes that Natasha would find a way to watch over Steve after Peggy left.

Romanoff cleared her throat. “Goodbyes aren’t really my thing. I tend not to weep or get emotionally compromised. Makes people feel awkward and like I don’t really care about them.”

Ah. There was some honesty thrown in with the sarcasm. Tilting her head, Peggy said, “Are you saying you care, Agent Romanoff?”

The Black Widow’s lips twitched. “It’s been nice meeting you, Agent Carter. I get why Steve’s been so smitten all these years.”

“You’re a good friend to him,” Peggy said, keeping her voice as casual as she could. Did Natasha have any idea just how much he’d needed her? And how much more he’ll need her now?

Not a bit of jealousy ran through Peggy at the thought. Knowing Romanoff would be there—-even if she didn’t remember anything, would be unable to know the reason why Steve would so desperately need a friend—was part of the reason Peggy would be able to get on the jet.

“I’ll always have Cap’s back,” Romanoff assured her, as if knowing it was what Peggy needed to hear.

Nodding, Peggy found herself saying sentimental words despite herself. “I know a little of what it’s like to be considered unworthy, to have doors consistently slam in your face. The loneliness that lingers when no one really trust you. You’ve stood strong despite all the terrible things the world has thrown at you, Agent Romanoff. I’m honored to have met you. And I can think of no finer person to stand by Steve in the fight to come.”

Natasha’s face lost all of its carefully concealed blankness. For once, she stared at Peggy with raw emotion all over her face—-shock, mostly, but Peggy saw pride mixed with a little embarrassment as well.

“I...” Romanoff said, blinking.

“Take care of yourself, as well as Steve,” Peggy said, turning to get on the jet. “I’m fond of you both.”

 

 

 

Silence reigned on the way back to Stark’s mansion.

Staring at the blasted Eye, Peggy couldn’t help but wonder if it would really work. What they would do if it didn’t.

What they would do if it did.

Next to her, Steve silently stared at it as well, his handsome face twisted in thought. She could have asked what he was thinking, ask if he was alright. But the answer was bloody obvious, and so Peggy didn’t say anything.

Instead she pressed in close to him, and forced the sob trying to escape her throat down as far as she possibly could. Crying would only leave her with a headache, at this point. Better to take solace in the warmth of the man she loved next to her, to feel him by her side for just a little while longer.

Soon they were landing, and everyone hustled out of the jet. Fast, it was all happening so fast. Peggy couldn’t quite keep up. Following Coulson in a dream-like fog, she silently did what she could to help and stayed out of the way when she wasn’t needed. Grabbing a container full of the memory suppressants they’d created, Simmons sent Peggy a sad look. But the sympathy didn’t touch her. Peggy was in that daze and not much could touch her there. Nothing seemed real.

The device was unloaded and taken down to Stark’s hidden room in the basement. And then it was quickly set up, ready to send her to 1947, and Fitz, Simmons, and Coulson were stepping away.

Too fast, Peggy’s mind screamed. Too fast, she needed more time, _they_ needed more time...

“Agent Carter.” Coulson extended his hand toward her. “It’s been an honor.”

Words. She needed to use her words, to respond to his statement, but they remained lodged in her throat while Steve shifted behind Fitz and Simmons. Steve, who was still wearing his Captain America facade as if he might crumple to pieces without it. Steve, who was only moments away from being torn cruelly away from her yet again.

Steve, who still wouldn’t look at her.

“I,” she said, unable to look away from Steve. For God’s _sake_ , a piece of her mind snapped. Get it together. It was normally never a problem for her. Correct the problem first, and fall apart later. It was her standard procedure. Kept her alive more times than once. She needed to do so now.

Yet this time, she simply couldn’t.

Understanding filling his eyes, Coulson dropped his hand. “I watched over Cap, once before,” he said quietly, so soft she wondered if anyone other than herself could hear. “When he was first found. I’ll find a way to keep watch over him now,” he promised Peggy. “Even if I won’t remember why. I’ll find a way, Agent Carter. My team is good at that sort of thing.”

Tears were brimming, and she held them back, forced them back down, because if she let them loose now, they would surely never stop. “Thank you,” she managed, walking with him slowly to the stairwell, Fitz and Simmons right behind. “For all you and your team have done. Thank you.”

“It’s what we do,” he said with a nod.

And then they, too, were gone.

As if a flip were switched, reality slammed into her with alarming clarity. No more putting off the inevitable. No more dancing around the terrible truth that she would be leaving. No more stolen moments, no more opportunities to be together.

No more time.

Steeling herself, Peggy clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. The pain was sharp, biting, and likely drew blood—- but it was enough. Enough to stop the trembling fighting to break free, to stay the shaking threatening to ripple through her. Next she bit the inside of her lip, firmly, keeping her chin from wobbling. Blood filled her mouth—a metallic taste that was not that pleasant, but it kept her mind active, kept her focused on blood and pain instead of the shaking in her knees.

Her head lifted, her shoulders set. By God, she’d taken on the devastation of losing Steve once before, she would do so again now. She would do right by him. She would do that.

Taking an enormous breath, she turned to face Steve.

Captain America was gone. The persona finally shed, Steve stood alone in front of her, no longer battle-ready, no longer defiant, no longer a living legend. Not a hint of the Man with the Plan lingered—the man in front of her was simply Steve Rogers, watching her with such sadness in his eyes that her attempts at being stalwart shattered.

Oh, God, how could she say goodbye to Steve? Steve, who smiled so softly, so sweetly, blue eyes crinkling at the edges, radiating strength and happiness. Those blue eyes—-Had they always been lined with such beautiful flecks of gold around them? That was something she should have known, should have remembered, but she couldn’t remember noticing it before, and oh God, soon she wouldn’t remember a thing.

How could she do this?

Watching her intently, he took two steps forward, then stopped as if utterly mystified at what to do next. Then Steve tried for a smile, though it was wobbly around the edges and absolutely did not reach his eyes. Her heart cracked in her chest, sundering it in two. 

“I’m gonna need another raincheck,” he said hoarsely, trying to keep it light, attempting at the banter that had always come so naturally between them, but she could see the wetness in his eyes, hear the terrible heartache in his voice.

Peggy broke.

The dam burst free, the sob she’d been holding back for _so long_ simply erupted out, overtaking her, making any response at all impossible. She leapt toward him, as if he were a magnet, and she as well, and they were meant to snap together, to fit together perfectly—-and it would take a damn fair amount of bloody work to pry them apart again.

His hands—those gentle, sturdy hands that had steadied her more than once— reached for her shakily, then they were in her hair and her face was buried in neck, and she wouldn’t let go, how could she let go? How could she willingly walk away from this?

“Steve,” she said, his name a plea, and she damn well didn’t care. She wanted to rage at the world, to scream until her voice had gone and the world had dimmed, until nothing was left but the ringing echoes of the devastation lining her heart. Instead she fisted her hand into his shirt, clinging for dear life and said again, “ _Steve_.”

“I,” he said, and stopped, shuddering, breath hitching in deep gasps that were just as wrecked as the tears flowing down her own face. “Peggy. I—-I can’t say it. I can’t say g...”

Pulling back, she studied him through blurry, tear-filled eyes, and pressed her lips tight to keep them from trembling. Steve looked away, as if shamed. As if finally breaking and admitting that he couldn’t bear it all— that this time the burden was too much—was shameful. And her anger and desperation just vanished, washed away like water down the drain.

She would share that burden. It was not his alone.

“It will be alright.” She whispered it, running her hands into his hair, pulling him close. If he was in danger of drowning in darkness, then she would be his light. He’d always been such a beacon of hope for others. She could be that for him. “It will be alright, Steve.”

Steady shoulders quaked, unwavering hands shook. “I— Peggy, I don’t...”

“This is not the end,” she said firmly, leaning back again to look him in the eye, keeping her arms wrapped around his waist. “This isn’t the end for us, Steve. We are endless, you and I. It will be alright.”

“I never expected to see you again,” he admitted, eyes closing briefly. “And now that I have...Now that I know how it could be, know just exactly all I’ve lost...how am I supposed to just...”

“Because this isn’t it, this isn’t the true goodbye,” she said firmly, grasping at straws, trying to make him understand. “Don’t you see? You thought you would never see me again, yet here I am, and we’ve had the chance to live our lives together again, however briefly. I thought you were long gone, harshly taken by the ocean and ice, and yet you _lived_. We are endless, Steve. I will always love you, I will always be with you.”

Another shudder ran through him while his blue eyes locked on hers. “Peggy, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. I will never stop loving you,” he swore, honesty and determination ringing in his words, searing through her.

Between one thought and the next, Peggy surged up, searching for the closeness, the connection to him she’d be giving up to protect the world. Soft lips crashed onto hers—-Peggy took Steve’s face into her hands, cradling it gently despite the desperation lashing through her to remember, to map, to keep. When he pulled back, brushing his nose close to hers, she breathed him in, willing her body to commit him to memory—-an instinct, of sorts, that she would never lose, never forget.

Steve spoke, words tumbling out in a fever-pitched intensity that made her heart stumble. “Do you—you have no idea...Peggy, I’m so _grateful_.” Light kisses were pressed achingly softly against her neck, then back to her mouth while she ran her hands through his hair, then over the nape of his neck. “Never thought I’d hold you like this, never thought I’d be with you....and as much as I don’t want to let you go, I’m so grateful I got the chance...I’m not explaining this right.”

“You’re doing just fine, Steve,” she half-laughed, pressing her forehead to his.

More butterfly touches and kisses softly rained down on her eyebrows, the corner of her mouth, her cheekbone. “We don’t have much longer.” It was said in a heartsick tone, one that swooped through her stomach, making the damn tears attempt to come back.

He kissed her, tender and sweet, not letting an inch of space between them. Keeping their connection for the little time that remained. Then, leaning his head to hers, he said, “Coulson sent alarms to all our watches, set to go off at the same time. When it beeps you have to take the memory eraser.”

“It will be alright, darling,” she vowed, murmuring it against his lips, praying to any god or goddess listening that they would whisper the words back to him when he needed them most, when all would be thought lost and he was in danger of losing himself. “We are for always, you and I. It will be alright.”

Their mouths met again—desperate this time, wild and mind-blowing. The scent of Steve blazed through every inch of her, a thrum of her blood that she would carry in her bones until old age caught up with her and she passed in her bed as Steve said she would. A promise that this would not be the end, that this was ever-lasting— a center that would bloody well hold.

They belonged to each other, and damn the universe for attempting to make it otherwise.

Ending the kiss, Steve pressed his nose near hers, allowing them to breathe each other in, as if this would be all it took to keep the memory of holding one another in Peggy’s mind forever. And it could work—this was _theirs_ , a truth that could not be ignored, an ancient instinct that would not be denied...

The watch beeped.

No, no, no, no, no. Her heart all but plummeted to her toes, skipping several beats. Not yet, dammit, not yet, there was so much left to say....

She started with the most important.

“Steve, listen to me, this isn’t goodbye,” Peggy said frantically.

“I know. It’s going to be okay,” he said, but his voice broke on the last word. Squeezing his eyes shut, he continued, “You have to take the memory eraser, Peggy.”

Smashing the bloody damn thing sounded better, but as he reached into the case Simmons had left on the table, she refrained from doing so. When he offered her the vial, she took it, and stared at it, just for a moment. She didn’t have to take it---she was reliable, was she not? She could remember, she could refrain from destroying the future, she could—-

She could destroy the hopes and dreams, the _lives_ , of thousands. Millions. Her own happiness was not comparable to that.

She had to stop putting off the inevitable.

Peggy popped the lid and pressed it to her lips.

Disgustingly sweet, the liquid slid down her throat, and Peggy felt it slithering through her, this damned suppressant that would erase the very best memories of her life.

No. Blast it, damn it all, thinking like that didn’t solve a damn thing. Setting the glass vial down, she gave a shudder, feeling slightly ill. Damn, buggering, _stupid_ suppressant.

Warm hands landed on her shoulders, guiding her into a steady, firm chest.

“You have to go.” Steve’s voice was hollow, but the kiss he pressed to her head was soft. “It’s time, Peggy.”

Trembling, she gripped his arms. Oh, God. Ohgodohgodohgod. “Steve,” she said quietly, brokenly, and that was not right, that was not her normal, confident voice—-it was far too similar to the way she’d said his name once before, the last time they’d said goodbye. When she’d thought he was lost to the ice.

“It’s alright.” His large hands engulfed hers, anchoring her, helping her walk to the Eye. “It’s gonna be okay. I love you.”

“Steve.” Peggy gripped the handle Fitz had created, and while Steve pressed a few buttons, she tried to focus her thoughts. It wasn’t the end. It wasn’t. She had to believe that, she had to have faith... “This isn’t goodbye, Steve. It can’t be goodbye.”

“I know,” he said, softly.

“No, you don’t understand. Steve....” She was stopped by his lips gently brushing against hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly, pressing another switch, and stepped away.

He stepped _away_ , he wasn’t there any longer, he...Her body screamed with the loss of him already, a phantom ache that she knew would never cease without him near.

“I love you, too, darling, I love you, too.” Tears streamed down, and she couldn’t stop them, wouldn’t be able to fight them back this time if she tried. But she couldn’t give up, she had a mission to complete, and it was the most vital one in all the world.

“Steve, you need to have faith. You need to believe. Remember what Tony said. And do not think this is it, you have to remember...”

“I won’t forget,” he swore. His own tears slid slowly down his handsome face, making impossibly blue eyes somehow even brighter. “I’ll see you every night in my dreams, Peggy. In that time where everything is simple, everything is right. In that perfect moment when you’re fast asleep, and there’s still hours until you have to wake up. I’ll be there with my best girl, asking for another dance.”

Oh, God. Her heart. Her Captain, her soulmate, her _Steve_....it was time to let him go.

“St—-“ Peggy began, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. Brilliant purple light exploded through the room, slamming into her, throwing her back. The brunt of it smashed into her chest, directly above her heart. With a silent and startled gasp, Peggy crashed to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I'm so sorry. Does anyone need a hug? I need a hug. *sends love and snuggles*
> 
> The last chapter should be up really soon. I hope this one doesn't discourage anyone from finishing, I promise it will be worth it! (well, okay, I really hope so, anyway!) I want to get it up before Endgame comes out --- which, holy wow, is next week. I am not ready. I'll probably bawl.
> 
> If you're emotionally compromised, feel free to drop a comment! Writing this made me weepy, we can commiserate the sadness of Steggy together <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs to anyone still reeling from the last chapter! I tried to warn about the feels!! <3 
> 
> (Seriously, hugs to you all, being a Steggy stan is rough!)

“Peggy? Peg, are you alright?”

Miserably ill, Peggy sat up. Why did she feel like she’d spent the night overindulging? That didn’t seem right.

Mind swirling, she grimaced. Why were her thoughts unable to coalesce? Tongue thick, brain fuzzy, Peggy attempted to calm her mind and steady her racing heart. Something hinted at the corner of her subconscious, something she was supposed to do, but she couldn’t remember...something terribly damn important....

She tried using her words. “What—-“ But she cut off, a wave of nausea crashing over her. Oh, dear Lord. What the blazes had happened? Had she caught a vicious virus? Why did she feel as if her blood was on fire?

A male voice cut into her unsuccessful attempts to figure out what the bloody hell was going on.

“Aw, jeez, Peg, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into that thing, it wasn’t supposed to do that. Did you hit your head?”

She knew that voice. Only one person could sound apologetic and somehow boyishly charming at the same time. “Howard?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Peg. Wow, that really did a number on you. Are you okay?”

Howard. _Howard_ was staring down at her, face cringing a little, eyes narrowed in concern.

Those were the wrong eyes.

“Steve!” She blurted, shoving to her feet. Oh, God. It had worked. She was back. She was back, and Steve was...Steve was...

“Yeah, about that,” Howard ducked his head, wincing, while Peggy shook and trembled, realization filling her with horror. Steve was gone. She was back, and he was gone. Steve was back in the ice in this time.

Oh, Crikey O’Riley. The ice.

Howard sent her an apologetic look. “The machine was supposed to get us back to Steve, but I guess I mucked it up. Don’t worry, Peggy, I’ll fix it—-.”

“Forget about the machine!” Peggy interrupted. Already the faint memories of the future were blurring, twisting into nothing right in her own mind. Memories of Steve’s hands, trailing down her arms, were evaporating. Images of soft and loving kisses pressed to her lips were blurring out and vanishing though she tried her best to hang on.

“What?”

“The machine isn’t important,” she snapped. She had to use her anger, had to be firm. There was one last thing to do, and she couldn’t let Tony or Steve down. Tony...was the image of the man she held in her head real? It seemed real, but it was fading away, crumbling to dust, and soon she’d think she’d known a man with that name once, but she wouldn’t be able to remember whom.

Despite the sob that was building in her chest, and the hysteria rising in her throat, she looked to Howard, prepared to do her one last task. She had to do this. Even though Steve....

Get it done, Carter. Tell Howard what to do.

“You have to look for Steve,” she demanded.

Howard looked utterly bewildered. “That’s what I was doing, Peg, that’s what the—-“

“I said forget about the damn machine, Howard!” He flinched, but she couldn’t stop to apologize, her time was once again about to run out.

“It won’t work, and it doesn’t matter. You have to keep looking for Steve in the _ice_ ,” she continued, grabbing at Howard’s lapel and dragging him close. “I know you never stopped searching the crash site.”

“Uh.” Howard, who she was fairly certain hadn’t been ashamed of hardly anything since he was two, blushed. “About that. Sorry, Peg—“

“No, no, don’t apologize! Keep looking. Do you understand? Keep searching, Howard, never give up! You have to keep looking.”

“I—-what?”

“Never stop searching for Steve,” she ordered, tightening her hands in his shirt. He had to understand. If he didn’t, Steve would never be discovered. “Never stop, Howard. Not even after your death. Keep the expeditions up, keep trying to bring him home. Never end them.”

“Peggy, did you hit your head harder than I thought? Do I need to take you to a doc?”

Of all bloody times, _now_ was the occasion he’d decided to behave like an adult? “My head is fine. This is important, Howard. _Please_ ,” she begged, when he opened his mouth to argue. “You have to do this, Howard. Promise me. Swear you will always search for him. No matter what.”

“I—-“

“PLEASE, Howard. We can never speak of it again, but you must promise me now, you _must_ vow that you will not leave him. That you’ll always look.”

“Alright,” Frowning, his hands came up to wrap around her while she clung to him, shaking. Howard’s face was still filled with total confusion, but there was a familiar, iron, determination there—one that made her think of a man who’d built a suit in a cave with a box of scraps.

He nodded. “Okay, Peg. Of course I’ll keep looking.”

“Never stop.”

“I won’t. Hey. Peggy. I swear,” he pulled her back a little so he could look her in the eyes. Those eyes were still the wrong ones, still not the ones she needed, but that didn’t mean they didn’t care about her. “I know my word won’t mean much to some, but I promised to never lie to you again, and I won’t. I promise, Peggy. I’ll keep up the search for Steve. Even after I’m long gone.”

Slumping against him, she let some of the tears come. “Thank you. THANK YOU, Howard.”

He went still, silent for a moment. Then his arms tightened around her, and he said, “You’re welcome, Peg.”

Hugging her friend tightly, she clung to him, for both their sakes. The heartbreak rippling through her was enough to make her use every inch of stubbornness and backbone she had—-otherwise she would simply sink to the floor. And the knowledge of what would happen to _Howard_ , and not being able to do a damn thing about it...

“I will always be there for you, Howard.” She could say that much. That at least had to be allowed. “Do not forget that. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Ah. Okay, Peg. Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but were you drinking before you came over? Not that I mind, but I would have had a glass or two with you...”

“No,” she laughed, pressing her head against his shoulder. It was the wrong shoulder, a voice in her head insisted. Squeezing her eyes shut, more tears slipping out, she buried her head in the shoulder she had regardless, and took several deep breaths.

“Seriously, Peggy, are you all right?”

No. No, but maybe someday...

“I—-“

Pain erupted through her head, so intense she gripped his shoulders and let out a involuntary cry. White-hot, blinding pain flashed from the back of her head to her temples, squeezing as if someone had her head in a vise, and she was going to be sick, she was going to die, this was going to be the end of her, after all....

Clinging to Howard, she had to admit she knew exactly what was happening. The suppressant was working, and no doubt the pain was from her memories being blocked out. Nobody had bloody mentioned that part, she thought, nostrils flaring. But she breathed through it, and thought of more important things than pain.

There was an image in her head, standing out against all the white-hot agony and she focused on it, searing it into her memory. Perhaps if she couldn’t keep it consciously, her sub-conscious would let her keep the picture of Steve sleeping peacefully, her hand over his heart, in her dreams.

“Peggy! Peg, Come on, you gotta answer me!”

Another piercing stab of pain, another small whimper escaping out of her.

_Steve_ , she thought.

The pain vanished.

“Peggy? Come on, Carter! Answer me, tell me what’s wrong!”

Leaning back, she frowned at him. Why were his eyes so wide and frantic? “Nothing’s wrong, Howard. Why are you embracing me? Did you forget who was your fiancée and who was your friend?”

He gaped at her. “Are you kidding? You hit your head, Peg, then started shaking and crying in pain—-“

Her face did feel rather wet, like she’d just had an indulgent crying jag, but she felt no pain. Interesting. Why would she have been crying?

Strange, but she wasn’t admitting that to Howard. “Surely you’re exaggerating, I’m absolutely fine. What are we doing in the basement?”

“I—-you don’t remember?”

Eyes scanning the room, she tilted her head, frowning, until it came back to her. “Oh, bloody hell. The time machine. You’re lucky you didn’t blow us up, Howard! What the devil did you think you were doing?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I get that it was stupid. Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of it. I’ll keep my promise.”

Promise? What promise? She was about to ask about it when the door opened upstairs and a female voice called down, “Howard?”

“Maria!” He lit up. “Be right there! She’s here, Peg, are you ready to meet my girl? You’ll love her.” Then he frowned. “Although maybe we should take you to the hospital.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m quite alright. The whole reason I’m here is to meet your Maria. We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Still looking skeptical, he said, “You sure?”

“Honestly, Howard. I’m fine. Let’s proceed with the evening and leave silly things like time travel behind, shall we?”

“Okay,” he said, sending her one last look before heading to the stairs. Rolling her eyes, Peggy followed—-he always had a flair for the dramatic, but he was going rather overboard this time. Aside from a small headache, she was fine. Nothing to be concerned about.

And yet...

Pausing on the stairs, she sent one last look at Howard’s contraption. What would have happened if it had worked? A ludicrous idea, completely unfeasible, but...well. A small, hidden, part of her would always wish there was a chance she could see Steve again.

Impossible dreams. She knew better than to long for such things. Though as she turned back to the stairs, she could have sworn she heard his voice.

_“You’re all I ever wanted.”_

Strange—she was fairly certain Steve had never said such a thing to her. But it seemed so real. So...vivid. As if he had only said it moments before. Sending one last quizzical look at the machine, she wished she could have had the chance to tell Steve that she felt the same.

Then, with the soft hum of Steve’s voice still whispering in her ear, she went upstairs to meet the woman who would become Howard’s wife.

 

 

 

Steve left for four months.

Natasha, he knew, would have called it a disappearing act. He had a tendency to take a break every so often by going out alone, and it generally drove her crazy. Mostly because it annoyed her that he used her own tricks at staying under the radar against her. But it was tactic he did every so often, to make sure he was still capable of it. Nat generally found him after a few days—one time he made it an entire week—-and he would return back to Wakanda with her, feeling a little less overwhelmed.

As it turned out, the practice going off the grid had been a good idea.

If he hadn’t had help, he never would have lasted four months—Nat would have found him in days. But when you had the world’s most sophisticated artificial intelligence assisting you, you were able to sneak by even the world’s best super spy.

She’d forgive him for disappearing. Eventually. Once he figured out what to tell her—how to explain the constant circles under his eyes and the weight he’d lost. He had to come up with something at some point. Natasha might not press, but Sam would eventually seek answers in that casual manner of his.

And right now, Steve didn’t have answers he could give.

At least the cabin he was hidden away in had plenty to keep him busy. Well, okay —-seeing as it was a cabin deep in the brush in Canada, it had plenty of wood to chop, and that was enough for Steve.

Why Tony owned a remote cabin in Canada was anybody’s guess. Steve hadn’t asked too much when Tony instructed him to head there, after...after. Somehow, Tony had known Steve would need to be alone for a while, and instructed FRIDAY to help Steve get there unobserved.

It would have been nice to keep Tony’s friendship. Steve had missed it, and wouldn’t have taken the amends they made for granted. But now if Tony saw him, he’d go back to trying to arrest Steve, or worse. He’d lost Tony’s friendship again.

He’d lost so many things.

Their terrible fight still appeared in Steve’s dreams, sometimes. He’d wake in a sweat, memories of a beam of energy ripping off Bucky’s arm, of slamming the shield down into the arc reactor, making him ill. Hurting one friend to save another had been the worst thing he’d done in his life. Saving Bucky was something he’d never regret, but...if he could do anything over again, that might top the list. How it would have all ended if he’d done things differently, if he and Tony had _talked_ , he had no clue, but...

He would have still had a home.

But he and Tony had mended things once. Maybe they could do so again. And as terrible as those dreams were, he almost preferred them to the other dreams that popped up, far more frequently these days. The ones where soft skin brushed his, and a lilting voice told him—-

Well. Told him the only thing he’d ever wanted to hear.

_“I will always love you, I will always be with you.”_

He wished. Oh, how he wished.

Filling his days walking the perimeter, and chopping enough firewood to stock the cabin for years, kept his mind busy enough. When it didn’t—-when the grief was so large he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—-he sat down on the surprisingly comfy couch in the cabin and buried his face in his hands until he could get up again.

Some days, it took an extraordinarily long time.

But he kept on. Wake, eat, walk, chop the wood, stack the wood, eat, shower, sleep.

Repeat.

Keeping the routine—keeping busy—kept the overwhelming need to punch the wall endlessly with his fists at bay. Which would have been a bad idea. Steve was pretty sure he could knock over half the cabin with one strike with all the despair and frustration rolling through him.

The routine didn’t much help the endless nights where he stared blankly at the ceiling until the sun rose and he could walk the perimeter again. But it worked during the day, and kept the cabin standing when echoes of a gentle voice nearly devastated him.

_“We are endless, Steve.”_

If only. Everything ended. Everyone left.

Except, perhaps, one or two.

The scent of crisp, greasy, bacon filling the cabin roused Steve from sleep. Immediately his long neglected stomach rumbled, close to the point of painful. Rolling out of the small, but very comfy bed (it was Tony’s, after all), Steve pulled on sweats, and walked out to the sound of Marvin Gaye crooning in the kitchen.

“About time you woke up. I was getting a little afraid I’d have to eat all this food myself.” Scooping some eggs on a plate, Sam Wilson lifted an eyebrow, studying him. “You look like crap.”

“Gee, thanks,” Steve said, dryly. Raw with barely being used the last four months, his voice came out rougher than he intended. Clearing his throat, he said, “It’s good to see you, too.”

Sam snorted. “Oh, I’m sure you _are_ glad to see me, with the pathetic amount of food you had left. What were you gonna do, start eating tree bark when you ran out of the scraps in the cupboard? Luckily for you, I came prepared.” Bacon joined the eggs on the massive plate of food, then Sam held the plate his way. “Bon appetite, Cap.”

The hunger pains ripping through him from the delicious smell were ridiculous now. Maybe he really should have been eating better.

“Thanks, Sam,” he said, and sat down to dig in.

“Don’t mention it.” Sam poured them coffee, then joined Steve at the little table. They are together in silence for a while.

But it didn’t take long. Lifting his coffee, Sam eventually said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Shoveling more food in his mouth seemed the best way to avoid answering questions, so Steve got up to get another helping, then sat back down to eat more.

“Wanna gossip about Wanda and Vision hooking up? Because I gotta admit, that’s weird. He’s nice, and she’s sweet, but that’s weird.”

Steve snorted into his eggs.

“They’re in Scotland, now,” Sam continued. “Secret, lovey-dovey meeting. They must like rain or something. Last time we were in Edinburgh, it rained all the time, and it was cold. How is that romantic?”

Shrugging, not really wanting to talk about romance, Steve kept eating.

Sam sighed.

“You know you’re gonna need to explain why you ran off to Canada for four months sometime,” he said. “Romanoff is pissed. Not even Barton has managed to hide from her this long. Only person who ever managed to vanish on her is Banner. And fuck all if we’ll ever know where he is.” Sam put his fork down and sent Steve a pointed look. “She doesn’t take well to people disappearing on her.”

“I...” Steve sighed at his bacon. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“She knows that. Which is why you’re not bleeding on the floor from a painful gut wound.”

As if their words summoned her, Natasha walked through the door in a thick winter coat and boots. Steve winced a little at the intense gaze she sent his way—-even after all this time, sometimes he couldn’t read her facial expressions at all. She could be deciding how she wanted to murder him, or be pondering the best way to steal the bacon off his plate.

The fact that one option was just as likely as the other was a little unnerving.

“Perimeter is secure,” she said, taking off the coat and joining them at the table.

“Oh, good. I was worried all the abominable snowmen were gonna attack,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Stealing bacon off Steve’s plate—ha! Maybe he was safe after all—Natasha said, “You mind giving me a moment alone with Steve?”

Or maybe not.

His eyebrows lifted, but Sam stood, and pulled on his coat. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go out into the freezing cold and chop some more firewood. You know, in case the pile large enough to last ten years is too small.”

“Thanks, Sam!” she called as he grumbled and stomped out. Then she turned to Steve, and tilted her head.

Numerous grown men had blubbered like babies under that gaze. Steve wasn’t afraid to admit that, right now, he kinda felt like joining them.

But he managed not to wince at the way her brows lifted. Guess now was as good a time to apologize as any. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he hoped she knew he _did_ feel bad for running away when she didn’t remember why. “I didn’t mean—-“

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve.”

“I—I don’t?” The last time he’d randomly gone off the grid, she’d lectured him for half an hour before telling him she was proud of his deflection skills.

Leaning forward, face carefully blank, she said, “If the love of my life went back to 1947 and I knew I’d never see her again, I’d want to be alone for a while, too.”

WHAT?

Air fled his lungs so fast black spots danced in his vision. “You—“ he wheezed, trying to take air in, trying to make his lungs work. “Natasha...what did you do?!”

“Did you really think I’d let you go through this alone?”

“Nat...” he breathed, somehow touched and horrified at the same time. If she knew, if she remembered...

What did that mean for the rest of them?

“Relax, Steve,” she said, correctly reading his concern. “I’m not interested in time travel. And I think Peggy would have agreed that it might be good for you to have someone to talk to.”

_Peggy_. Grief slammed into him, nearly drowning him in its enormity. It was the first time he’d heard her name spoken aloud in four months. Looking away from Natasha, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to get his breathing under control. It wasn’t easy. How was he supposed to protect the world, to keep Bucky safe, when he could barely hear her name without breaking?

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. “This is harder than waking up from the ice, isn’t it?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said hoarsely. He’d wondered why, at first. Those first few weeks after waking from the ice had been awful, but he’d been able to do his job, to continue on. But then, at that time, he’d been plagued only with what-might-have-beens.

This time Steve knew exactly what he’d lost.

“Did anyone else...are you the only...” Words just could not tumble out right.

Natasha squeezed his shoulder. “It was quite the debate with Tony and Rhodey, but they agreed eventually. I’m the only one who didn’t take it—-but I let them think I did.”

There was a good response to that, somewhere, but his thoughts weren’t firing correctly. All he could do was stare at her.

“I’d have been here sooner,” she continued, “but you hid well this time. I didn’t realize FRIDAY was conspiring to help hide you until I went back to the Compound. She confirmed everyone else took the suppressant. Even Coulson’s team.”

“I thought—-she was able to discuss it with you?“ When Tony realized the importance of everyone forgetting the importance of time travel, he’d put the AI on strict lockdown. FRIDAY’s files hadn’t been completely deleted—Tony had left her with just enough information to help Steve and make sure the charges on Ross stuck, since everyone’s memories on his arrest would be altered. But no one could access what FRIDAY knew about that time except for Steve.

Or so he’d thought.

“Not exactly,” Natasha said. “Tony’s code and rules were clear. But he also created the most advanced, lifelike AIs in the world. FRIDAY knew I hadn’t taken the suppressant. I think she wanted me to help you, so she dropped subtle hints until I figured it out.”

Jeez. Rubbing his face again, Steve shook his head. The ramifications of what Natasha had done...of what could have happened...

Natasha cleared her throat. “FRIDAY gave me a message to pass along to you.”

Steve’s hands dropped. “What?”

Saying nothing, Natasha reached into her jacket pocket and held out a familiar piece of Smartglass—the phone-type thing Tony always seemed to be carrying these days.

“What is it?” He asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“It’s for your eyes only, Cap,” Natasha said. “FRIDAY wouldn’t tell me what’s on it.”

Nothing like a mysterious message from your former friends’ robot.

Sighing, he asked, “I’m guessing I need to play it?”

“FRIDAY indicated you should watch it right away.” Rising, Natasha reached back for her coat. “Sam and I left a few things in the jet. We’ll go back and get them, give you some time.”

Steve stood as well, shoving his hands into his pocket. Playing that message was the last thing he wanted, but things would likely go terribly if he didn’t.

But he needed to do something else, first.

“Natasha.”

She paused, quirking an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “Yeah, Cap?”

“You probably shouldn’t have done what you did,” he began, internally wincing when her face went carefully blank again. Offending her wasn’t what he was after.

“I knew the risks, Steve.”

“I know, that’s not what I...” Why was he still always so terrible at talking to women? “What I was trying to say, is... maybe you shouldn’t have lied and pretended to take the suppressant. _But_ ,” he said when it looked like she was about to argue, “I really appreciate it. Seriously, Natasha. It means a lot, to know....it means a lot.”

It took an extremely long time, and Steve would never admit it, but sweat dripped down his back while he waited for her reply, still slightly terrified he’d offended her.

But finally, she nodded. “You’re welcome. Listen to the message. Sam and I will be nearby. We’re here if you need us.”

“I know,” he said quietly as she walked out.

The amazing thing was, it was true.

 

 

 

 

Running a hand through his hair, Steve placed the glass on the table and stared. FRIDAY wouldn’t have sent him a message unless it was important, he knew that. But he also had a bad feeling that he was going to have a hard time dealing with whatever was in that message.

And he was just so damn tired.

Truthfully, crawling back in the little bed and sleeping until this constant ache in his heart faded seemed the best idea, but he’d never backed down before.

Might as well get it over with.

Before his lost his nerve, Steve pressed a slim button on the side of the glass and said, “This is Captain Rogers.”

“Good morning, Capsicle,” FRIDAY’s chipper voice said.

Steve snorted. One day Tony was going to have to find a new nickname.

“Natasha said you have a message for me?” he asked.

“Indeed, I do, Captain. Before her departure, Agent Carter recorded a video message for you. Shall I bring up the video?”

For the second time, Steve felt his breath vanish from his chest. Not even a severe hit from the Hulk had knocked the air out of him so quickly.

“Peggy?”

When had she— _Why_ had she....what message would she have needed to leave? Not that he didn’t want to see her face, hear her voice again, but...

What did she have left to tell him?

“Captain?”

“Yes, please.” It was a rasped whisper, but he managed to speak. “Please, FRIDAY. Bring it up.”

Out of the glass screen rose a holograph, and it only took seconds for it to alter to reveal Peggy’s form.

Oh, God.

The terrible thing about Tony’s inventions was that they were always so _perfect_. Peggy’s image was so vivid, so clear, that if he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was there with him.

A small, helpless noise ripped out of him at the sight of her, and he sank down into the chair, curling his hands into fists.

“Captain? Shall I play the video?”

Should she? Could he handle hearing Peggy's voice again? The soft, gentle tone he so often heard in his dreams?

“Captain?”

“Yes,” he managed, trying to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. “Play it, please.”

There was a slight pause, and then the image moved.

“Hello, Steve.”

_Peggy_. It was really her—-her voice, her eyes, her smile—they all but leapt out of the holo-image and slammed into him, the vision of her making him emit another strangled noise.

She of course, continued on, oblivious to the way his heart was shattering once more.

“If you’re viewing this, then it’s safe to assume I’ve returned to 1947.” Peggy paused, pressing her lips together. Then, with bright brown eyes, said, “I’m so sorry, Steve. I hope you’re all right. I worry about you, and the weight the world always seems to press upon your shoulders. If it’s any consolation at all...”

Here her voice wobbled a little, and Steve clenched his hands, digging his nails into his palms to keep from doing something cowardly like turning off the video.

“If it were my decision, darling, I never would have left,” Peggy continued, staring straight at him, as if she were somehow there, somehow looking into his eyes. It loosened something in his chest, and allowed his fists to unclench a little. “I hope you know that, Steve. Never doubt it. If it were my choice, Agent Carter never would have left Captain America’s side. And Peggy Carter would choose Steve Rogers every time.”

Closing his eyes, Steve pressed a hand to his forehead. He would have chosen her too, if he were ever given a choice in anything. It would always, always have been Peggy.

“Director Fury has just left,” Peggy said, and her tone shifted, signaling that the time for wistfulness and nostalgia had passed. Despite himself, Steve smiled. It was so like her to briskly get back to business. The fate of the world was always safe when Agent Carter was near.

“We had a rather odd conversation about Cassandra’s Eye—-the orb Howard used to bring me here. Apparently it’s a mystical object, originally intended to show a person what it is they need to know.”

Pegg’s dry tone and slightly curled lip told Steve exactly what she thought about that.

“Though at first I considered it complete nonsense...he eventually convinced me that the Eye is genuine. Howard tinkered with it to switch it to time travel, but the true purpose of the Eye is to be a sort of soothsayer, and tell one an essential fact about the future that they desperately need to know.”

Nostrils flaring, Peggy said, “Further information, that FRIDAY has recently revealed and Fury neglected to mention, is that the Eye chooses a select person every few decades to bestow a grand truth upon....a way to ensure the world does not collapse.”

Riveted, Steve waited for her to finish her pause, anxious for her to speak next.

“Fury believed that person was me.”

Of course he did. Memory altered or not, Steve was going to have a little chat with Fury about keeping things from him.

Again.

Taking a breath, Peggy continued. “I wasn’t so sure. But FRIDAY assured me it was quite safe, and vowed to keep watch over me while I took the opportunity to see what the Eye wanted with me.”

She should have told him. Why hadn’t she called? He would have been there, would have made sure nothing happened—-why had she kept it secret?

“I realize I should have informed you, and Natasha and Tony as well—- but FRIDAY was insistent that I view it alone. She already knew what Fury had seen, you see. And Fury’s vision revealed that I had to discover this alone.”

Another breath, then: “And you were busy with Tony, and...I was afraid, Steve. Fury indicated his vision had something to do with you, and I didn’t want you to know that there might be even more heartache and misery headed your way.”

At this point, Steve was pretty sure there wasn’t much that would cause more misery than what he’d already been through.

“So. I looked into the Eye.” It was said nonchalantly, but Steve knew by the slight twitch of her hand that what she’d seen had been anything but.

Peggy’s eyes filled. “What is coming your way, Steve, is horrifying. And it will be there quite soon, if it is not already. You need to be ready, and you need to know...There is so much that I can’t reveal, that I wish I could warn you about...

She broke off, taking a trembling breath. “There are a few things I am allowed to say, that I am supposed to let you know. Evidently the Eye is somewhat sentient, and knew it could never get close to you to warn you. So it used me, as Howard found the damn thing and used it while I was around in 1947.”

Howard always did manage to find extraordinary objects. Honestly, it would have been more surprising if he _hadn't_ been the one to find the Eye.

“So, here is what I am allowed to say. Keep Agent Romanoff close, Steve. Believe me when I say, you will need her. Don’t be afraid to lean on your friends. They will get you through this, and the plans that you make will work. As long as you don’t give up.”

Sending a pleading look at him, she bit her lip and said, “Don’t give up, Steve. No matter how bad it gets—-and believe me darling, it will get bad. Do not bend. Stand tall against the monster that is coming your way. Rely on your friends, your family. You’ve been split up, sent various places amongst the galaxy, but your teammates, your Avengers...they will help you see this through. Come home to the Compound. You’ll know when. And never give up. The universe will not survive if you do.”

The—the _universe_? Protecting the Earth had been hard enough, how was he supposed to guard the entire galaxy?

Peggy’s voice turned softer, the briskness and official business tone she’d been using fading away. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you this in person. It’s been made quite clear that if I deviate from what I’ve been shown, change the order you must learn things, unimaginable consequences will happen. I don’t want what I’ve seen in this blasted Eye to come true for you, so I’m playing along.”

She had always been good at working certain rules to get what she wanted. Steve smiled as she said, “But there is one more thing. And take heart, darling, for all will not be darkness and despair.”

Was it too much to ask to skip the darkness and despair for once? Maybe it was surly of him, but Steve really could have gone for things not becoming incredibly awful and dooming the fate of the world for a change.

As if she knew his thoughts, she smiled. “I realize you’re probably fairly well done with darkness and despair, entirely.” Her smile dimmed a little. “And I wish I could spare you what’s to come, Steve. I truly do. But know this: This will not be the last time we see each other.”

_That_ caught his attention. Scooting closer to the holo-image of Peggy, he peered closely, waiting for her to explain.

And just for a moment, his grief slid away. Steve and Peggy were working together again, and it was almost as if she were standing there with him, about to run her soft hands through his hair, place a gentle kiss on his lips.

What Peggy had said before she left had been completely true. There was no ending to a story like theirs.

They were endless.

And as she spoke again, contentment—and purpose— settled over Steve, for the first time in four months.

“After this terrible trial is over, Steve, you will be given a chance. As long as you have faith in yourself, have faith in your team, have faith in _us_. We will have a chance to see each other again. This is not the end, Steve. Have faith, and take care, Captain.

I’ll be seeing you, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end, taking us right up to the start of Infinity War! Writing this ending was so emotional, I hope I pulled it off and it doesn't disappoint! 
> 
> A lot of this hinges on my firm belief that Steve will somehow go back to 1945 after Endgame (HE IS NOT GOING TO DIE, DAMMIT MARVEL!), so this is me trying my best to give Steggy the best and happiest ending they could possibly have. 
> 
> THANK YOU so much to everyone who has kudos'd or commented on this along the way! The love for this story has blown me away, you are all amazing. And if you are new to this fic and enjoyed, feel free to drop a comment, they always brighten my whole day <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
